


When dreams become reality

by Shadowofahunter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner - Scorch Trials, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Cranks, Fires, Gen, Gladers, Gladers appear later on, Hurt Stiles, Kidnapped Stiles, Pack goes into WICKED, Prophetic Dreams, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Solar Flares, Stiles Leaves, Stiles Leaves the Pack, Stiles whump, Stiles-centric, The Scorch Trials - Freeform, Totally ignores book and film plots, berg, bites, stiles dreams about the scorch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowofahunter/pseuds/Shadowofahunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles was kidnapped he was put into a deep sleep, he dreamt of a ruined earth, a burnt earth, the Scorch.<br/>He loses so much so where wakes up he thinks he's dreaming.<br/>He thinks he has escaped the dream, but when his world begins to unravel and morphs into his dream, can he face it, knowing what's going to happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Djinn Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This idea COMPLETELY ignores the book and film plots, but I use a mixture of the descriptions/sets from both.  
> This came to me in a dream (sounds really cliched I know but it's true) and I thighs it would make a good story

Stiles was taken by the djinn two days ago. He'd rung Scott to let him know that his Jeep was broken down again and asked if he could be picked up. He said he was on the long lonely stretch heading into the town. Scott had agreed and let Derek know where he was going, he'd left the loft on his dirt bike. He’d driven to where Stiles’s Jeep sat, lights off, engine quiet. 

Scott had frowned walking around trying to see Stiles, he'd called out his best friend’s name over and over. He'd heard nothing in response, it was as though Stiles had simply vanished. Thing is there had been strange disappearances for a few weeks now. Just like this, people had upped and vanished, gone, and they haven't been found yet. 

As soon as he realised this Scott had rung Derek, “He’s gone, Stiles has gone”  
"What do you mean gone?” Derek voice asked, slightly static filled  
“I mean gone like those people gone. Taken.”  
He heard Derek relay this info to Allison, Lydia and Isaac who he'd apparently called over. Scott ran a frantic hand through his hair as he turned on the spot searching in vain for any sign of Stiles.   
“Scott? Hey Scott?”  
“Yeah yeah I’m here, sorry”  
“We’re coming to you, stay where you are, see if you can find anything, clues whatever.”  
“Sure” 

Five minutes later they arrived. The small Pack stood around Roscoe,   
“Find anything?” Allison asked  
“No” Scott replied, “I couldn’t find anything.” Honestly he'd been to panicked to think clearly enough to find clues.  
“Hey guys, do you smell that?” Isaac asked standing over by the woods entrance  
Derek strode over and deeply inhaled, he closed his eyes as he let it wash over him, the odours of earth an death penetrated his nose. He pulled a face and glanced at Isaac who had a similar expression,   
“What is that?” he asked  
“I don't know, we need to go back to the loft and look this up, see what we can find”  
“But Stiles-“  
“If we know what we are facing we can find him sooner” Derek interrupted Scott  
The Pack hurried back to the cars but Lydia paused, she looked back at the Jeep and walked to that instead, the keys were still in the ignition. Turning them the engine purred into life. She frowned, Stiles had said the car was broken.   
Getting in she made to follow the others, together they drove away leaving only dancing dust in the air as they went to find how to save Stiles.

It took them what felt like an age to find what it was, it was Allison who eventually discovered it, “Hey, I've found it!” the others rushed over, Allison had the bestiary up on her laptop, she read from the page, "it’s a djinn. They take their victims to their lair, often disused or abandoned places where they tie up their victims and put them into a…dreamlike state. They then proceed to drain all of the victim’s blood.” her voice tailed off at the end as they realised this was happening to Stiles right now.  
“ok but how do you kill it?” Scott asked with his eyes closed  
“you need a silver knife dipped in lambs blood, in the heart's best. That kills it.”  
“I can find a knife” Lydia supplied, “we have stuff at home,”  
“ok good.” Derek took control, “I can get the lambs blood, I know a butchers, they may not know I've taken it but that doesn't matter.”  
“it has to be quiet fresh, get it in a jar and bring it back. Tomorrow we find Stiles.”

The next day brought Lydia concealing a stolen silver knife under her jacket and Derek bringing out a small jar of lambs' blood. Allison, Scott and Isaac had spent the remainder of yesterday trying to find where the djinn would've taken Stiles and the other people.  
“Ready?” Derek asked the others nodded and they once more got into the cars.

The place they suspected Stiles to be was an old yard, there was disused warehouses surrounding it, it was off the roads and far away enough from the town that none would come here with reason but close enough to take people.   
“It’s always abandoned places isn’t it?”  
Allison’s lips twitched but she was getting into hunter mode, she was watching everything, Chinese daggers ready, her bow rested on her lap.

Scott felt his heat pounding in his chest he knew the other wolves could hear it but he was so concentrated on finding Stiles and so afraid of what's they'd find that he didn't care.

It was Lydia who got out of the cars first, Derek then Scott. Allison and Isaac leaving last watching their backs. None of the spoke as they crept towards the lair. 

Inside it was damp and gloomy, typical. Plastic sheets were strain over disused table ops and chairs rested on their backs, legs splayed awkwardly and their splintered wood broken. Allison paused crouching by one, the dust on the ground had been disturbed recently. She placed a finger on the cleared ground, glancing quizzically up at the others she raised an eyebrow, it looked like a struggle had passed through this room. Random items were around the area and more dust was cleared from random areas, the floor had a trail, two tracks lead through the room, one was two thin lines, like someone being dragged and the other had the footprints pointing in the wrong way, like they're dragging the other. 

Silently they followed the trail. At last they were led round a corner where they came to see ropes from the ceiling, they were looped around the wrists of limp figures. Lydia choked down an exclamation of horror, the corpses were decimated, the faces wasted away dead for a while. Beside them hung empty blood bags, a slight pink hue was inside showing the past presence of blood, now drained away. They froze where they were. 

Suddenly movement caught their eyes, a man was standing by one of the people whispering to them, the man had tattoos running all over him, they wrapped around his head, snaked down his arms. He seemed to glow with an eerie blue light, when he stepped back they saw the light came fro his hands, the Pack's eyes widened she they saw who the djinn was talking to: Stiles.   
He was pale, almost grey. When his eyes sluggishly flicked around slightly he began to struggle once he blearily blinked a few times, he groaned softly and struggled,   
"No don't please don't" he begged the djinn, the sound broke the Pack's hearts.  
The djinn touched his forehead and the blue light seems too float on Stiles's skin whilst Scott heard it whisper, "sleep now, sleep" they saw Stiles's head droop but his eyes remained fixed operating at nothing, they were glassy and distant  
"Stiles!" Scott couldn't help it he called to his friend and ran at the djinn who spun round surprised, the it snarled, blue igniting on its arms.  
Allison drew an arrow back in her bow and shot the djinn, the heads burrowed into its legs but the djinn carried on, it leapt at Scott and landed ontop of him, he barely managed to hold off the glowing hand  
"Sleep" it hissed  
Isaac ran over to Stiles to try and cut him down.  
The djinn pressed its hand closer but then it jerked as Derek stood grimacing with a bloody dagger in his hands, Scott rolled to the side as the djinn collapsed to the ground dead.   
Lydia dashed over to Stiles who Isaac was helping to the ground, she gently reached out and pulled out the small IV line in his vein.  
Stiles's eyes were still open and vacant, his pallor was pale and clammy, the blood bag by him was half full,  
"Stiles?" Lydia gently took hold of his shoulder, "Stiles can you hear me?"  
At first he didn't respond, Allison glanced at Scott who was looking worriedly at Stiles, his breathing was shallow and his soft heartbeat was fast like he was running or afraid.   
Then he sucked in a huge breath and his eyes flickered with clarity as he looked round frantically. His eyes found Isaac and he stilled,  
"You're alive?" His question threw off everyone  
"What? Yeah I'm alive" Isaac replied confused  
"No you were dead, you died" Stiles whispered, "everyone died"   
Isaac looked up at the others for help, Derek raised a helpless eyebrow.   
Lydia looked back at Stiles who had passed out again, his eyes closed now.   
"Guys we need to get him to a hospital, we don't now how much blood he's lost" She stepped back and let Scott and Derek pick up her friend's limp form.   
Isaac and Allison hurried over to see is any of the other victim survived; all of them were dead. Drained of their blood.   
"Are you sure this isn't a vampire?" Isaac inquired peering at the blood bags  
"No. It's a djinn, I made sure. It's not going to rise from the ground with fangs or anything." She replied

On the drive back Stiles lay on the back seats of the car, he was quiet until he began twitching and whimpering, like in a deep dream. His movements became more erratic until Scott had to reach round and hold Stiles's arms down to not injure himself  
"Stiles!" He shouted, "Stiles stop!" It didn't help, his friend continued to writhe his whimpered became moans, became shouts,  
"No! No no no please! Don't go! Don't leave me! Dad! Dad please! Dad wake up!"  
"Stiles wake up! You're dreaming!"  
"Dad wake up!" Tears are running down Stiles's cheeks, his face was contorted in fear and pain  
"Derek hurry up!" Scott hurled at him   
"What do you think I'm doing?!" He yelled back   
All of a sudden Stiles stilled, unnaturally so. His face relaxed and his arms flopped to his sides.   
"Derek"  
The car sped forwards as Derek floored the vehicle now on a wider road, Lydia followed in her blue car. 

The hospital parking lot was quite busy, Scott dashed out of the car and ran up the steps to get his mum while Allison and Isaac helped carry Stiles out of Derek's Camaro, together they slowly walked up the steps. Melissa hurried out of the glass double doors, concern etched into her face,  
"Be gentle. How much blood has he lost?"  
"We don't know, when he found him there was already half a blood bag full, he may have lost more."  
Scott's mum nodded and led the trio in, she helped lie Stiles down on an empty gurney and wheeled his way telling the other nurses what happened.   
Lydia and Derek dashed in son after,  
"Where is he?"  
"They took him somewhere-" Scott began  
"He's in the ICU now" Melissa appeared round a corner looking flustered, "he lost quiet a substantial amount of blood but he will be fine. A few weeks of recovery and Stiles will be back to his normal self. You did well finding him. You should call his dad, he will want to know Stiles has been found."  
"I'm on it" Isaac said pulling his phone from his jeans.  
Scott sighed and flopped into a chair, Lydia sat down beside him  
"At least that's over and Stiles is safe, and no more djinn"  
"Hmm" Lydia didn't share Scott's optimism, she felt that there was more to come. A lot more.


	2. Behind eyelids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles's dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of gory description near the end of this chapter, just so you know.
> 
> I have no I sea how the original scorch would've come but this is my idea, I'm not sure if it's physically possible.
> 
> Disclaimer I don't own teen wolf or the maze runner franchise

In his head it began again, the continuous cycle of the horrific nightmare.

He was sitting in his house, it was he, his dad and the Pack. The TV was on in the background, a female news presenter with blonde hair sat behind her desk with her papers clasped in her hands. She was talking about strange local occurrences, ranging from sightings of monsters to finding destroyed buildings everywhere.   
They were taking about nothing in particular, they'd come to see how Stiles was doing even through he was fine, his injury had healed.  
Suddenly the news stream paused, the silence made everyone turn to the TV seeing if it had broken. 

The anchor was listening to her earpiece her finger pressed into her ear and slowly a look of sheer terror dawn on her face, she looked back up at the screen searching for the right words, she stuttered unsure how to proceed,  
"Um...I've...I've just been informed that...the sun's just emitted powerful solar flares. Powerful enough to kill. Everyone must take cover as soon as they can, this is not a lie, they are coming. Prepare your self" the screen went black.  
They stared at it for a few seconds, they were confused, what was she talking about? 

Then the heat rocketed up, it became stifling, sweat beaded on all of their heads, necks and backs. Stiles stood up and went to the window to see what was happening. There was a couple standing on the pavement staring up at the sky eyes wide. Stiles followed their line of sight and he too gaped in shock, the blue sky seemed to be being eaten away, the clouds were disappearing, evaporating. All the moisture seemed to vanish too. Then the sky began to change colour, the blue became tinged with yellow, the horizon looked orange, the blended hues looked like wildfire seeping through the sky.   
"Shit" Stiles whispered, he backed away from the hot glass, "get down! Everyone get under cover!" He shoved people under tables who were too stunned to move, he tried to push Derek but he wouldn't budge, "Derek you're gonna die! Get under something!"   
"What's happening Stiles?" He demanded  
"The sky is freaking burning! Get under cover now!" Finally the concept of the end seemed to force its way through his thick skull and he dipped into the cupboards under the counter, after ripping out the contents, shelf and all.  
Stiles too hid in the cupboard under the stairs, 'I'm Harry Potter' he absurdly thought as he waited  
"Stiles? What's going on?" His dad began to crawl out of his hiding place, looking slightly frustrated  
"no dad get back! Dad-" Stiles flung out an arm to stop his dad

The power of the heat was immeasurable, instead of a feeling it was a physical force that plunged down on the Pack, the heat made some things burst into flame, others just crumbled, the living room belonged in that group, the walls simply ceased to exist. Stiles shielded his head with his arms as debris began to pummel down on him, he heard someone shout in pain along with a crack, "DAD! Dad are you ok!" He hollered over and over. Then he heard the staircase creak above him, he looked up and saw the first few touches of flame edge through the cracks, he swore seconds before it collapsed. 

The lethal wave seemed to dissipate into terrible heat, all encompassing and oppressive. Stiles opened his eyes when he felt himself be dragged out of the rubble, Scott's strength managed to manoeuvre the wood away and heave his friend out. He coughed and spluttered the dust from his lungs, "dad? Where's my dad?" He looked up at Scott who supported Stiles, "Scott where's my dad?" Desperation and dread was rising it's ugly head in his chest, the last thing he'd seen was his dad emerging from safety before the flares struck them. He pulled at from Scott and stumbled over debris to where his father last was. 

He yanked away pieces of wood and metal that shrouded his father. Finally he pulled away something and he caught a glimpse of dented starred metal, his sheriff badge.   
"Dad!" Stiles called out, he pulled away more but when he got to his dad's head his face was unmoving, his bank eyes stared up at the burnt sky unseeing, "Dad! DAD! No! No no no please! Don't go! Don't leave me! Dad! Dad please! Dad wake up!" He shook his dad's shoulders in a vain attempt to raise his dead father, tears streaked down his dusty cheeks, he couldn't be dead. His father had gone through so much to die like this. He couldn't be dead. Stiles wept freely and rested his head on his dad's chest sobbing until he had no more tears. He heard muted voices behind him, then a hand tried to drag him away from his dad, he struggled screaming then he broke free and scrambled back to his father, he couldn't leave him. He shouted at his dad to come back, that he couldn't be gone. 

Then Derek came up from behind him and hoisted Stiles up from his chest lifting up from the ground, from his dad. Stiles screamed struggling to get back, he wouldn't leave his dad but Derek was too strong, "No dad! DAD! PUT ME DOWN!"  
Derek didn't listen or wouldn't. He carried Stiles away across the road and up the scorched hill away from his only family, his final hope. The rest of the Pack followed Derek mutely, they too were in shock. No one knew what was happening, what had just happened.   
Slowly Stiles stopped struggling and let his feet drag in front as Derek heaved him from his armpits, Stiles made his feet catch up and took his own weight walking next to the older wolf. 

Now Stiles looked round. What only 30 minutes ago had been lush green grass was brown dead earth, warm houses were burnt shells, living trees dead empty skeletons. Bodies littered the ground, hundreds dead, killed in the heat, the flames burning their flesh. He felt sick, Stiles turned away trying to block out the smell of charred flesh but it permeated through the dry air, ever present.

The group crested the hill leading down to the police station but the wooden building had perished like everything else it seemed.   
Scott halted and Allison walked into him. There were still the occasional fires, Stiles hadn't stopped, he didn't feel anything. He was hollow, unemotional as he dug though the debris searching,  
"What's are you doing?" Isaac queried from behind  
"Looking for weapons" Stiles muttered aggressively   
"Why?"   
Stiles stopped and looked round at the werewolf with a are-you-kidding-me face, "really? You think everything's still going to be normal? Huh? You think we're gonna go to school tomorrow all laughing and holding hands? No Isaac. Nothing is the same, there are no rules. It'll only take a matter of days, tops, before people realise that. Anarchy will rule; no order, no punishment. Each for their own. I'm looking for the best weapons before they get taken by some moron who doesn't know the muzzle from the safely catch. Now if you'd like to help that'd be much appreciated" Stiles returned to his previous job, but now Isaac knelt down by him,  
"I'm sorry" he paused, "I'm sorry about your dad"  
"Shut up." Stiles snapped not ready to face the truth yet, he couldn't shove the image of his dad's eyes glassy and lifeless staring up at the ruined sky. He dug with even more vigour into the rubble.

Finally they had a small amount of weapons that were not damaged and still functional.   
"We should go to the hospital, try and get some medical supplies. We will need them now more than ever." Stiles took control,  
Allison chipped in, "I could go back to my house and get some of my families weapons, they'd be fine, most of them anyways, they're underground."   
Stiles nodded, "you, Isaac and Scott go, get as much as we can carry. Destroy the rest"  
Scott couldn't believe that this was Stiles in front of him, his normally glowing eyes were hard and flint like, he was calculating and ruthless, "what about my mum?"   
"We will get Melissa out of there and being her with us." Derek promised.  
Stiles went over to a car and grabbed the handle but withdrew it at once hissing in pain, he shook his hand, "damn that's hot." He pulled of his plaid shirt, wrapped up his hand and opened the door, he pulled down the wires from under the steering wheel and began trying to hot-wire it.  
"How to do you how to do that?" Isaac asked in awe  
"My dad is...was a cop. I picked up a few tricks. Also I've lost count how many times I've had to jump start Roscoe. Ok that ones for you three" he turned to Allison and Scott. Allison looked determined but Scott looked nervous and unsure, Isaac looked a bit confused but ready to go. Thankfully she took charge and strode to the car. 

They pulled away leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.  
"We should go" Lydia said, "get the best ones and go, we can't say here."   
" we will need supplies too and water." Stiles thought, "we can get them with the medicals. Ok let's go" he bagel walking to another car ready to jump start and go. 

The drive to the hospital was tense, cars were strewn over the road, doors open, wheel melted onto the pavement, a few people lay amoung at the carnage. Suddenly Derek spotted two stragglers clutching at each other stumbling on the road,  
"We need to help them" Derek demanded  
"We can't" Stiles retorted   
"What?"   
"He's right, look at their injures, they'll die in a few days we cant waste supplies on them." Lydia knew she sounded harsh but she was making herself think logically and thinking how they can survive this new hellish reality.  
Derek was about to argue but then the couple came into view from behind the car. 

They were burnt, blisters were already popping up on their red skin, the woman had lost half her hair, her scalp showed red bloody skin. Their clothes were tattered already, the edges flapped in the blistering heat. The man looked like his face had almost melted, his left ear had fused with his cheek, but his left eyelid had also melded with his cheekbone sealing his eye half shut, his iris darted around underneath. Derek nearly gagged at the sight, how could this happen so fast? How could heat melt flesh? He turned away ashamed that he was so weak but he couldn't look at them as they stretched out a pleading hand to save them.

Stiles pushed harder on the gas trying to get away from them and wanting to leave the town as soon as he could, leave everything and try to find help, refuge. Anything to help with his pain.


	3. Monitors

The monitors beeped slowly and steadily, Stiles slept on. Scott watched on as Lydia went out to go to the bathroom. It'd been three days since Stiles had been brought into the hospital, underneath his lids Stiles's eyes flickered constantly, dreaming.   
"What do you think is going on in his head?"   
Scott turned round to see Isaac leaning against the door frame, hands deep in pockets, Scott nodded at him then turned back to his sleeping friend,   
"I don't know, I read a bit more about djinn and apparently they send their victims into a dreamscape thing which is ideal for that individual. So maybe he is seeing what he wants to see, a perfect world"

They were silent for a while watching Stiles's chest rise and fall, but then his breathing quickened, his heart rate began to rise speeding up faster and faster. 

Stiles sprang up screaming, his eyes frantic and wild, he flung his arms around as though clawing off a person, Isaac spun round and yelled out of the doors calling for help.   
"Stiles! Stiles stop! Stiles its me!"   
Stiles stopped screaming but still struggled, his eyes were searching for something they flicked around terrified, then confusion leaked into his hazel eyes. His breathing was fast, each inhalation through his nostrils sounded sharp.  
"Stiles." Scott growled clamping his hands around Stiles's upper arms holding him down, Scott flashed his Alpha eyes. Stiles was finally snapped out of his revere and locked eye contact with Scott,  
"Scott?" His voice was cracked and dry like he'd been shouting for a long time, then tears sprung up his eyes, "Scott where am I? What's going on?"   
"He just started screaming" Isaac explained as he came round the corner with two nurses in tow  
Stiles froze when he saw Isaac, "Isaac?" He glanced at Scott, "how are you alive?"  
Everyone looked at Isaac, "what do you mean Stiles?" One of the nurses gently asked approaching the nervous boy  
"You're...you're dead" he whispered, terror swirling round in his stomach making him feel nauseous, "you were infected"  
Isaac frowned, "infected?"  
"The Flare" Stiles looked around frantically again, his heart starting to race again, "everyone has it"   
The nurses shared confused expressions before the nearest one pushed a needle into his IV line and depressed the plunger  
"Wait what's that?" He asked desperately  
"Sedative, you're panicked and still weak, you need to relax and sleep"  
"No I can't! You don't understand, I can't sleep, I'll go back, I can't go back...I can't...back..." His eyelids drooped as the drug worked its way into his mind, his hand grasping the sheets unclenched and he slumped back down into the sheets his breathing returning to normal.

"What was that about?" Isaac demanded when the nurses left  
"I don't know." Scott was confused to say the least  
"I thought you said the djinn sends you to an 'ideal world'. By the sounds of that Stiles is anywhere but a good place, you heard him! I can't go back! That's what he said! Everyone's dead, I died! I was infected by something! That sounds anything but a perfect world" he took a deep breath and pushed it out in a long exhalation of air.  
"You're right Isaac" Scott looked back at his resting friend, "we can't do anything to help him though when he's asleep." He leant back the plat I chair and ran a hand through his hair sighing, "I hope he's ok"

~~~~~~~

It didn't take long before everything fell apart, Stiles saw cities burn, houses destroyed, shops looted. He sat silent on the car bonnet, Derek and Scott rested on the sides while Isaac lay strewn over the floor. The two girls sat on the dusty ground at the base of the tree they were parked under.  
"What now?" Derek asked, somehow they small group had taken to Stiles leading them, he himself felt different, in control and sure of himself.   
"We need to keep moving, you heard what that woman said, Denver is a safer place"  
"How are we going to get to Denver? The cars just run out of gas" Isaac asked  
"We still have feet, we walk." Stiles squinted into the harsh sunlight, it glared down on the earth burning the exposed world.  
"What about this new organisation, WICKED?" Scott asked  
"I don't know, they seem to perfect, with their claims of finding a cure"

The Flare had been released a few months after the Solar Flares hit, the governments had tried to help the suffering people by creating something to make all those who inhaled it fall into a sleep, eventually dying. That didn't work. The chemical turned out to have a terrible effect on those who came into contact with it. They slowly were stripped of their humanity, they became animalistic and crazed, they still spoke but often lacking sense or thought. They were called Cranks. Already they'd spread, the virus infecting thousands, millions. 

During their time the Pack had slaughtered countless Cranks, all in various stages of decay and madness. It was terrifying how fast the human brain deteriorated, but there have been rumours of some places, havens, where the Flare hadn't yet taken hold. Denver was one of these places. 

After the world fell into the hands of chaos the remaining worlds governments and leaders had joined to form an organisation called the World In Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment Department, or WICKED for short. Since the Flare, the brain had become known as the Killzone by some, it seemed apt as that was the area that finally kills you.  
However, WICKED had been claiming that they could have a cure for the Flare. They sent their Bergs flying over the scorched earth and skies. Doing what no one knows.

"Why don't out trust them? If they could have a cure then it could save everyone"  
"Do you really think everyone will get the cure?" Stiles laughed bitterly, "no, I think only the richest will get. I don't like them, flying overhead watching us suffer, what help have they given us? None"   
Silence followed his words, they sat looking out onto the destroyed world that was once so fruitful. 

Shuffling steps suddenly were heard and a person launched themselves out of the dead shrubs that surrounded them, the person was a man, he had sores covering his scarcely covered body, blisters accompanied the sores and sunburn. Chunks of hair were missing, he only had one arm, the other was a ragged stump. Dried red flesh dangled from the shoulder.   
He screamed with an animal fury and jumped at Isaac.  
Without hesitation Scott and Derek leapt up, fully wolfed out. Stiles, Lydia and Allison all brought out daggers, bows and pistols. As one they began attacking the intruder. The Crank was taken down easily, he came with aggression but no control. Derek made the first move, he swiped low knocking the man off his feet into his face with a thump. As he made to scramble up Stiles stepped up behind daggers drawn and stabbed in Crank in its back, severing the spinal chord paralysing the rabid man.  
Finally Lydia flicked off the trigger and pulled the trigger back shooting out a bullet that raced through the skull of the now dead man.

No one had spoken the entire time, they knew how they worked, each person had their own style and they were a team. A Pack. Derek heaved the corpse onto his shoulder and threw it over the precipice in front of them.  
"We should go" Scott offered, "could have attracted more"  
The others nodded. They had rucksacks full of their supplies; extra ammo, medical equipment and food. Each pulled on their bag and began trudging away from the overhanging rock.   
"I'm glad he didn't have to suffer with this" Stiles thought back to his fathers death, it was bliss compared to this continued horror story that was their lives.   
Scott grunted, pulling his hood over his head blocking out the sun, "yeah" he was quiet  
"Shit I'm sorry man" Stiles looked frantically apologetic at his friend, completely forgetting about Melissa  
"It's ok, at least she's not suffering any more"

Melissa had been infected early on, the hospital had been rife with injured people all clamouring for help. She'd refused to go with the Pack, even with Scott begging her leave with them, she adamantly refused.   
Only a few weeks later they were refuelling at a deserted gas station when a group of Cranks had approached them, they were not far gone but still far enough from human to be a threat.   
One had called out, Stiles still remembers the gut wrenching realisation that it was Melissa who had shouted at them.

Her hospital clothes were filthy and ragged, her hair matted and dust covered. She had no major injuries like most of the Cranks did, however, she had many scratches and bruises littering her thin form. It was her eyes that were the most horrifying though. The motherly love that used to shine through was replaced with an insane glint, her dork irises were not warm, but hard and crazed.

Stiles can still feel the warm tears on his face refusing to kill her, remembers clinging onto a broken Scott as his mother attacked Derek and Isaac. Remembers how Derek had closed his eyes and pulled his claws across her throat, remembers the blood spraying from the wound.  
Remembers her falling.  
Remembers her eyes clearing with clarity.

Remembers her final whispered words, "Thank you"

Remembers the life leaving her.

Remembers the wracking tears, clutching onto a wailing Scott. Both having lost a mother.


	4. Horror reality

A soft voice dragged him back. She was just talking but he followed it back to the lights and noises of the waking world. He flicked his eyelids open a few times before his eyes focused properly. He was lying on a soft mattress and he felt weak, what was happening? Was he dreaming?  
"You're not dreaming Stiles" she reassured him, had he spoken aloud?  
Then her face came into view, her dark curly hair tumbled around her face, she smiled a loving smile and her eyes glowed with motherly love. Melissa was in front of him, alive and healthy.

He sat up then eyes wide and searching. He couldn't stop staring at her, she looked so different to when... He couldn't think about that.  
"...Ok? Stiles, hey, are you feeling alright?" She'd been talking to him and he hadn't realised it, "you look like you've seen a ghost" she smiled again, concerned  
"Yeah, I'm fine" he whispered, his voice scratchy still unable to erase the image of her dead on the dusty ground, her blood pooling in a gory crown, "um...where am I?"   
"You're in the hospital, Scott and the others brought you ins few days ago, you've been asleep." She looked at the closed door, then back at him, "you were taken by a djinn, it took some of your blood and put you into a dream state. You did wake up but you were still weak and confused, do you remember anything? When you were taken? Where?"  
Stiles finally looked away from Melissa and stared at his hands trying desperately to remember something, anything, "I...I don't remember anything, I'm sorry" he was fiddling with his trembling fingers, winding and twisting them together in a nervous action.  
"It doesn't matter, as long as you're ok. That's all that matters Stiles" she pulled him into a gentle hug, he fell into it eyes squeezed shut, he felt the tears rise and did nothing to stop them, they fell thickly onto the sheets that cocooned him, he held on tightly to her not wanting to let go fearing this was a dream and he'd be sucked back into the hellish world where he'd been trapped.  
But it had only been a dream hadn't it? It was all in his head. It wasn't real.  
Melissa broke the embrace to look into his eyes, "you're Ok Stiles?"  
He nodded wiping away the tears, still slightly in shock  
"Well" she glanced over her shoulder again, "it sounds like you have some anxious visitors"   
As though on cue the doors shuffled open and six people crowded through the space.   
Stiles felt his eyes widen even more, in front of him in his full uniform was his father. John was beaming at Stiles,   
"Good to see you Stiles" he smiled and came closer to his son's bed, he made to hold Stiles's hand but his son practically threw himself around his dad's neck. His tears were making another appearance, his sobbed into his dad's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He released his locked up pain and let it wash away, revelling in his dad's arms, something he thought he'd lost forever.

"I missed you dad, I missed you so much" he mumbled into his shoulder not caring it didn't make sense to the others, he just needed to say it  
"I missed you too son" he replied, joy sweep through him, Stiles was safe, that's all that mattered.

The rest of the Pack all greeted Stiles. Scott was relieved Stiles wasn't panicking any more and that he'd calmed down. Isaac was glad Stiles wasn't thinking he was dead anymore. Lydia and Allison both hugged Stiles both of them so happy he'd woken up safe. However, Lydia still felt that small niggling feeling her stomach like something was wrong, something was coming.

Only four days later Stiles was released. It was still the holidays so he didn't have to worry about school work. He still felt weaker than normal thanks to the blood loss. He had to slow everything down, going up or down stairs quickly made him giddy as did sitting up. Dizziness was often accompanied with nausea. He had to sit down for a few minutes whenever these spells came over him.  
He was at the top of the stairs waiting for the dizziness to pass when he heard someone unlock the door, he sat up listening. Ever since being kidnapped he was extra vigilant, also his dream had given him some skills, including being very quiet when he wanted. It was as though he had spent so long in the dream world that it left an imprint on him.  
The person who had entered his house was walking quietly, steps placed around the floorboards that squeaked. Stiles pushed a hand against the wall pushing himself up, the other hand supporting his chest. A shadow stalked around the wall approaching him, Stiles was now backing up the steps, the person was still coming. Their shadow crept four their up the wall,  
"Stiles?" It was Scott  
Stiles tried to brush of his paranoia and how he nearly had a heart attack,  
"Next time say your name, don't scare me like that" he grumbled sitting back down  
"Sorry, I didn't know if you were asleep, didn't want to wake you up if you were. You ok?"  
"Yeah peachy Scotty." He sighed relaxing again  
Scott nodded and came to sit beside his friend, Stiles still smelled slightly of the hospital, it's chemicals and disinfectant. However, there was also a constant under layer of fear and hyper-awareness, it was strange, why he was scared was a mystery, yet Scott didn't feel like it was his place to ask so he kept quiet.  
"I just want everything to be back to normal" Stiles puffed out his cheeks fluffing a hand through his rumpled hair   
"I can't wait until we're are back to fighting the next monster" Scott replied smiling looking up at the hallway ceiling  
Stiles laughed, "how have our lives become so messed up that we see normal as fighting a monster?"   
The brothers sat shoulder to shoulder just talking, their conversation meandered where it led them. They laughed and joked, but they also told each other how they felt. Scott was glad that Stiles was finally opening up to him, what he didn't know was what happens with the djinn, Stiles would never tell anyone that.   
That dream would haunt him forever.  
He couldn't have been more right.

Another two weeks and Stiles was healed, his strength was back, the dizzy spells were gone. Yet the Pack still were cautious around him like his was fragile and prone to breaking. He found it frustrating but was glad for their concern.

While his body may have healed he was still tormented by nightmares, the burnt earth loomed over him denying him sleep some nights. The faces of those who died spun around him until he sat up choking down a scream. He couldn't let his dad know about this, couldn't tell him about his death that didn't happen.

Stiles was watching his dad chat away to him in the kitchen one morning Making breakfast, it was after another horror filled night, so Stiles stood up and went over to his unsuspecting father, spun him round and hugged him. He had taken to hugging him recently reassuring himself that he was there, that it was just a dream. 

At first John had been confused, frightened by the unexpected signs of affection but soon he grew accustomed to them, he loved how he and his son were stitching closed their wounds. 

A knock at the front door made them jump, Stiles's eyes flicked automatically to the knife rack on the side within arms reach. John noticed the movement but said nothing, instead he brushed it off and walked into the hall to open the door.

Scott, Derek, Lydia, Allison and Isaac stood on the other side under the shadow of their porch. Recently the heat had been building slowly. There was a water shortage and a drought had been announced with water conservation actions being set within the town. On behalf of this the lawns were slowly withering, but their green colour was still prominent.

John ushered them in and shut the door to the heat.  
Stiles looked up from the counter where he was leaning and rolled his eyes, "guys I'm fine" he said when he saw their concerned faces, "look!" He began jumping around flailing his arms around just to prove his alright-ness, that was until he tripped over a chair and crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, "crap" he muttered getting up from the ground, "well it shows I'm fine" he looked up sheepishly at the grinning faces, Isaac stifling a laugh, "some of us don't have supernatural balance or whatever you all have"  
Lydia waved a hand, "what are we? Chopped liver?" She grinned  
"Yeah well..." Stiles grasped for an answer, "I don't have an answer to that"

The Pack sat around the table chatting, everyone on chairs but Derek wouldn't sit, instead he stood leaning against that wall arms folded,  
"Don't be such a sourwolf" Stiles had smiled at his natural scowl

The TV was on in the background supplying a constant sound. Then. A pause. Everyone looked round at it, thinking it was broken. Stiles, however, scanned all the others and felt his blood freeze, those were the exact same faces as in the dream.  
"Um...I've...I've just been informed that...the sun's just emitted powerful solar flares. Powerful enough to kill. Everyone must take cover as soon as they can, this is not a lie, they are coming. Prepare your self"   
"No, oh god no" stiles whispered and dashed to the window as the heat lit up.  
The sky was bleeding fire.  
The dream began to unravel before him, he turned to the Pack, "get down! Everyone get under cover"


	5. Crank-tastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So from here and now on it's the present time and reality. Picks up from where the dream last left off after killing the Crank.
> 
> My Flare is much like the books Flare, they lose their humanity, rather than the zombie approach like in the film, but then again, the films Cranks will be seen later on.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this and sorry for irregular updates, schoolwork and exams are annoying. Thank you so much for the kudos! Constructive critisism is welcome :)

The Pack left the dead Crank behind them, wide ruined landscapes leered at them, inviting them to go further into the scorch.  
"We're to now?" Isaac asked  
"On" Stiles hitched his rucksack and began pacing forwards, head bowed under his hood shading his face from the burning rays.  
Days passed, weeks. They walked in the early morning, rested and slept during the peak of the day and set off once more in the evening. One was always on guard, a constant set of eyes scanning the horizon for Cranks.  
Stiles was yanked from his fitful sleep with a sharp intake of breath, he sat up curling his hands into the folds of his coat, he looked round to see Isaac sitting by the entrance to their dwelling. He had a hand to his forehead, eyes closed. His mouth was turned down in a grimace,  
"You ok?" Stiles quietly asked, creeping over to his friend  
Isaac nodded weakly,  
"I'm no werewolf but I know when you're lying" he smiled gently  
Isaac looked at Stiles full in the eye, "I feel sick Stiles"  
"Do you need to use our supplies?" He made to turn back to their medical bag but Isaac grabbed his arm  
"Not that sick, sick like...Flare sick"

Stiles stared at Isaac mouth slightly agape, "how long?" He swallowed  
"It started soon after the Crank we killed when we left the car"  
"Dude that's weeks! We could've helped you!" Stiles's voice was stretched and tense as he suppressed his shout, "we don't know how it affects werewolves, if you're immune? If it acts faster!-"  
"You don't think that's already crossed my mind? You don't think I've been terrified I'm going to suddenly turn on you and bite your faces off or something?!" Isaac spat back, his eyes slightly wild, Stiles drew back. Isaac lowered his head apologetically, "that's what I'm talking about, the slightest thing sets me off. I always feel...angry. That and it feels like there's a huge metal ball rolling around in my brain, it makes me feel off balance and stops me thinking straight." Tears shone in his eyes when he looked up at his leader, "I'm scared Stiles, I'm scared of what'll happen to me"  
Stiles tentatively gripped Isaacs shoulder and looked at him, "hey. You'll be fine. We will find a cure, we'll help you. You just think straight and you'll be fine. I promise"  
Isaac snorted, "you promise." A slightly scary light ignited behind his soft irises, "like your promises mean anything, you can't do anything to help me!" His voice had risen to shout, the others were stirring  
"Isaac shut up!" Stiles hissed looking frantically round  
"No you shut up Stiles! You can't do ANYTHING to save me! I'm gonna become a Crank! I'm going to go crazy and there ain't any DAMN THING YOU CAN DO TO STOP IT!" He roared at Stiles who scooted back, hands feeling for a weapon  
"What's going on?" Scott blearily asked roused but he shouts  
"You want to know? Huh Scott? I have the Flare? I'm going to be a Crank!" He gigged then, not a laugh, a giggle. A sound of hysterical madness.  
"Get back Scott" Stiles warned and put a hand on his best friends chest eye locked on Isaac. 

Suddenly a crash broke the tension and five Cranks burst out from behind them hollering at the tops of their damaged lungs, the Pack were frozen for a second, caught unaware. Then they broke into action.

Stiles swooped up his daggers spinning them expertly in his hands, Allison drew her bow and shot an arrow which flew through an eye socket of one of the on rushing Cranks with a wet thud. It's lifeless body spasmed then dropped. Lydia flicked off the safety catch on her pistols aiming them at the rushing forms. The wolves transformed. As on they leapt into the fray, metal glinted alongside mad eyes in the twilight.

Four of the Cranks were dispatched quickly, one of the three lost its throat to claws and despite it trying to carry on attacking them found that severe blood loss often slows you down quite a bit, another was battling Stiles who had his mouth tightly closed with one eye on Isaac who was fighting a Crank with Scott, the werewolf was tearing at the Crank's flesh with a ferocity greater than he should have in him. Then the last one threw Lydia across the area they were sleeping in, she crashed into the wall leaving a dent and collapsed into a pile of old crates.

"Oh dear, into the box she goes, back to the shop, needs repairs" the last Crank giggled, mouth full of drool and blood. A string of spit swung from its lips like a pendulum. It was continuously stepping from one foot to the other, a nervous action, but it's arms swung by its sides slightly behind the movement, "back to the building blocks" it leered at the Pack, "I need parts, I need parts, I need parts, parts parts parts parts...." It tailed off but still mouthed the word.  
"Parts?"  
"Parts parts parts...I need parts" a smile slashed across its face, fingers twitching, then it screamed and began clawing at its own face, it's nails carving deep gory gashed down its cheeks, "PARTS PARTS PARTS PARTS!" Then it broke into a flailing sprint right at Isaac who snarled and slashed at the Crank, eyes glowing a fierce yellow, fangs bared.  
"Hold him back!" Allison yelled and jumped over to where the werewolf was ripping up the dead Crank. The others joined her in restraining Isaac.  
Derek ran over to Lydia who was groggily coming round, hands up to the back of her head and grimacing at the blood when she pulled it away.

A high keening sound was coming from somewhere and Stiles almost did a double take when he realised it came from Isaac himself, the boy seemed unaware of this, he still was swiping at the air struggling to escape  
"ISAAC!" Scott roared using his Alpha voice and the boy stilled, chest heaving with unknown exhaustion. He looked round frantically,  
"What happened?"  
"You lost control" Derek snapped coming into his view, cutting off the sight of the bloody Cranks, "what is going on?"  
"He's sick" Stiles muttered looking at his friends, "He's infected."  
Almost instantaneously, as though realising Isaac was contaminated, everyone let go of him. He let his arms flop to the ground and his head tilt forwards, "what's happening?' He whispered, raising his gaze to the Pack years glistened in his pained eyes, "I can't become..." He gestured to the lifeless bodies of the Cranks, "I can't"  
"You won't" Scott lied, Lydia glanced at him  
Isaac snorted in derision, "yeah cos I'm totally not losing it or anything" he began picking at his worn trousers, digging into the fabric widening a hole.  
"Isaac" Allison crouched down in front of him, "Isaac we will help you, we will find a cure. That's what we are doing anyways, finding safety"  
"It won't be safe if I'm there, I shouldn't be here" an expression of realisation hit him, "I can't be here."  
"What?"  
"I can't be here!" He was petrified, "I'm going to infect all of you!" He scrambled up to his feet in a flurry of limbs shoving Allison out the way he scooped up his bag and made to exit the building  
"Isaac stop!" Stiles commanded. He halted but didn't turn around, "where are you going to go? Huh? What food or water have you got? What protection? You can't up and go cos you won't survive and we can't have your death on our consciences"  
"Well you're going to eventually"  
"Eventually yes, but we still have time. Isaac stay with us, we stand a much better chance of surviving if we stay together." Stiles though the harsh reality would be better than more lies, he was going to die or become a Crank, there's no escaping that. The least Stiles could do was help Isaac whilst they still could.  
The werewolf paused, hesitating then turned round, hand curled around his rucksack handle, fear alight in his eyes. He slowly retracted himself from the light burning the entrance and came back to the shadow covering them.  
"You sleep. I'll take watch" Derek ordered sitting guard extra vigilant in case any more Cranks decided to play a game of peek-a-boo with them. 

Derek watched the small group sleeping. Scott had a hand laid protectively over Allison's, he still had a thing for her. Derek then looked over to Isaac who was scowling in his sleep hands twitching, gripping an imaginary item, Derek frowned in concern for his Beta, he may be an ass sometimes but he was Pack, Derek's Pack. Or was it Stiles's Pack now? He'd taken control right from the start, he was different now; confident and self-assured. He'd lost his ragged innocence when he'd lost his father. Derek closed his eyes trying to dispel his sadness, he'd liked the Sheriff, he was an honest man. There were few of those, even less now. Derek looked back at Stiles, his mouth was open as he breathed deeply, his head was turned to face Lydia who was also looking at him, eyes shut. Her hair flowed around her head like a crown of fire. Stiles still liked her, Derek thought smiling sadly. Over their time in the Scorch he'd become much closer to Stiles, he saw him as a leader, a friend, a companion.


	6. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. Have to admit I cried whilst writing this, sorry. Also there is a panic attack near the middle-end, just so you know

When they had packed up having woken up earlier, the Pack set out once more. Yet now they kept a wary eye on Isaac. He knew eyes were always on him, constantly seeing if he would suddenly turn. 

He felt head felt heavy, like there was a bowling ball having a good jump around in his skull, then there was the constant battle of emotions, he felt like he would snap at anytime, he also felt like he lost all self-preservation. He would fight even if it was him alone against ten Cranks. 

It was the Flare. He knew that. Everything going wrong was because of that virus infecting his mind, driving him mad. He was fighting every urge that said for him to spin round and kill his friends, to tear them apart, to smash their faces on the dusty earth.  
But he kept walking, left, right, left, right, one foot in front of the other. Little puffs of sand clouded around his feet as he stamped on the earth. Left right left right left right keep walking in the heat left right left right left right squint in the sun searching for something left right left right left right. Stop.  
"Isaac?" Scott came up beside his friend.   
He had halted suddenly for no reason. His rucksack had slipped to the ground with a heavy thud and an explosion of dust. His hands were quaking by his sides and his head was lowered.   
"Get away from me" he muttered, teeth clenched with the effort of speaking rationally. When the others flung questions at him he spun round hollering at them, "GET AWAY!" He lashed out with his arms, eyes staring at each of them.

Stiles backed up a few steps, Isaac looked like a Crank, his eyes were bloodshot and wild, his pupils were minuscule pinpricks in his frenzied irises. Thankfully he hadn't shifted yet or they would have claws and fangs to worry about.  
"Isaac slim it ok" Stiles wasn't sure why he said that but it felt right, he held out a pacifying hand  
The boy locked his gaze onto him, he snarled a feral grin, but it vanished and he stooped his head as his hands began shredding at his hair he tugged out clumps of his hair leaving a bloody scalp, he dragged his fingers over his face clawing gouges in his flesh.   
"Isaac! Isaac stop!" Allison desperately shouted, she made to run but Derek held her back, she struggled until she saw that Isaac had shifted. He slowly looked up, blood dripping into his glowing eyes.

The Flare hits werewolves much harder and spreads faster, in the short time since they last saw his face before it was submerged in shade it was clear and slightly sunburnt, now he was covered in sores; ones at the corner of his mouth, on his forehead everywhere. They were eating away at his hands now. His skin peeled away to reveal bright red angry blisters that dried around the edges to wet sores. Hair was missing in patches. Blood vessels pounded in the off White of his eyes, tracing paths to his wavering irises. 

"I'm too far Gone. You can't help me now" he giggled mouth filling with drool, "you don't know what it's like" he looked down at his blood caked hands, "it takes over, it controls you. I feel strong, I feel like an Alpha" he snarled again, eyes glowing a more prominent yellow.  
"Isaac calm down or you're going to hurt someone"   
"Or you'll hurt me" Isaac began to slowly walk towards the Pack who stepped back, "you've dropped me like some sick creature...I guess I am. I thought you'd be a better leader Stiles, seems you're the real leader in this Pack. I thought you'd do more to help! More to try and save me!" He launched himself at Stiles, but Stiles snatched on of Lydia's pistols from her holster.   
"Isaac stop." He commanded holding the gun out in front in trembling hands, he couldn't believe he was holding his friend at gunpoint.

Isaac's eyes widened, "do it Stiles...do what I can't do for myself." His eyes cleared slightly of the mad fog, and he shifted back to human, "Stiles I can't do it" the second was gone, "do it! Before I kill you" his fangs slid out once again, "this is your fault! I could have been saved of it weren't for you! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Now he jumped onto Stiles slashing at him, he struggled under the weight of the werewolf but managed to somehow flip Isaac onto his back on the floor, he stood up on shaky legs still pointing the muzzle at Isaac,   
"Isaac don't do this, don't make me do this"   
Surprisingly the Flare-riddled boy didn't get up, he lay on the floor glaring up at Stiles, "you've already killed so many of us"  
"Us?"   
"Cranks"  
"Shut up, you're not a Crank" knowing deep in his heart that Isaac was lost, "Isaac fight it" tears welled up in his eyes, his vision fuzzed with salty water  
"I fought it for you! I fought and it won! You could have stopped it! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"   
Then, suddenly, his eyes cleared once again and rational thoughts wormed back into his head, he looked up at Stiles with fear and understanding in his eyes, "Stiles please, I've lost. Just do it"  
"Isaac..." Tears streamed down his face but the pistol remained steady.   
"Please Stiles, please" a strange calmness took hold of him, the calm before the storm. He needed to die, he couldn't become worse than he was, fully Gone. 

Stiles stood over his dying friend and took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry Isaac. You are Pack, now and forever." He pulled the trigger and closed his eyes.

Stiles stumbled back with the he recoil of the pistol, he dropped the weapon eyes still closed, he felt himself start to fall, the arms wrapped around him. Scott caught Stiles as his legs gave way. He wrapped his brother in an embrace to take away his pain.   
Stiles sobbed into Scott's jacket, tears flowing down his cheeks and his hitched breath shook his entire frame. He couldn't speak, not that he wanted to. Couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

His hitched breaths became panicked gasps as his chest tightened, a claustrophobic hold around his lungs. He looked up at Scott and his friend led him down to the ground where he struggled to calm down. The others were talking, trying to calm him down, but he couldn't. He'd just killed Isaac, someone he'd known for years. One of his Pack. He was staring around frantically hands scrambling to hold something, then Lydia clasped his hands in hers, she filled his vision. Then she pressed her soft dry lips to his cracked ones.   
This brought memories of them in the locker room years ago. The adoration he felt for her rushed once again through his chest and it seemed to unlock his lungs and they expanded, air rushed through his nose. He broke the kiss gasping for air.  
"Stiles?" She held his head in her hands, but he already felt his head feel fuzzy and he fainted falling into blissful unconsciousness. 

Derek watched over Stiles as the others sat in a close circle, mourning. He couldn't believe what Stiles had done, he'd saved Isaac from a fate worse than death but at the cost if himself. Derek knew he'd be riddled with guilt, he'd never forget this. Ever. Derek still remembered Melissa. He looked away unable to think about it. He gripped his hands still feeling the warm blood under his fingernails. 

He looked back at Stiles, he had sacrificed one of his own, Derek didn't know if he himself could do that. He had turned Isaac, and even thought Scott was the Alpha, he felt responsible for his welfare and he hadn't been able to save his Beta. 

When he had watched the confrontation terror had swirled around in his chest, a cesspit of panic. Then when Isaac had returned, pushing aside the Crank in him, his begging made Derek want to howl with anguish. The echo of the shot firing followed by the thud rang round his head, a clash of sounds and smells and tears. 

As Stiles slept he had another dream. He was walking up a huge sand dune with the Pack. He, Scott, Derek, Lydia and Allison struggled up the loose sand panting with the effort in the burning heat. Stiles's feet suddenly slipped down with a mini landslide of grains and he fell forwards, arms outstretched. When his hands came into contact with the the sand it felt like Stiles had just placed his hands into fire, he tried to pull them out but they sunk lower he hissed, still descending the dune. Then a hand halted his motion, he looked up into Derek's eyes, his ever-present frown was sewn into his brow, he tugged Stiles back up and asked if he was ok. Stiles - brushing himself off to retain some dignity - confirmed that he was. He sighed and began crawling back up the slope down which he was just sliding. 

Sweat poured down everyone's back and forehead. They came together and sucked the too hot air into their lungs. It didn't seem enough. They gasped for the oxygen their muscles so desperately craved. Finally, they recovered. Only the final push now Allison declared squinting up. Her previously paler skin was now deeply tanned. As was all of theirs. As one they began the final climb up, boots sinking down into the sand but they carried on nevertheless. 

After what seemed like an age they crested the dune. Spread out in front of them was a desert. Endless sand dunes rose and fell like a motionless ocean. Half submerged buildings peeked out from the sand. Stiles glanced over to Lydia who was standing head high, eyes wide. The wind was more prominent here, it caught her hair. It whipped behind her like living flame, imitating her firey character. Her green eyes surveyed the area before her. Stiles tore his gaze away and he too examined what was before them. Nothing. A load of sand. He went to ask the others but then a flash of blinding white flashed. He stared through the thick sand dancing around in the air. There it was again, a glint of sterile white. He hit Scott's shoulder and indicated what he'd seen. Werewolf eyesight far superseded human. Scott squinted then his eyes widened as he saw what Stiles had seen. Stiles stayed watching it then the dust cleared for a moment. 

It was a building. An oval shaped compound, with a domed roof. It was blinding to look at. This was WICKED. He didn't know how he knew but he was sure. WICKED was sitting in the middle of a desert filled with Cranks. It was like a mirage, he didn't want to look away in case it was false.   
"We need to go there" Scott said, "they could help us"  
"No" even though it looked like the refuge they've been seeking, Stiles could smell the evil from that building.   
"What?" The others asked, shocked  
"I'm not going in there"  
"Why?"  
"I don't trust WICKED"   
Derek raised his eyes brows, "well I'm going in"  
"Be my guest" Stiles was not going in there, no way.  
"Seriously? You're that stubborn! You won't go in there cos you got a 'bad vibe' or whatever? Stiles, they could SAVE us!"  
"Or kill us" he stated simply  
Derek stared at him for a while longer, shook his head and started walking toward the compound.  
"Derek! Wait! What are you doing?" Scott called out  
"I'm going, you coming?" He turned around  
Scott looked torn. He glanced at Stiles, then back at Derek, "Stiles, come with us... Come on man...its better than this"  
"You go. I'm not"   
Scott begged him with his eyes but Stiles wouldn't budge. He was not going.  
Finally he watched then start to descend the slope towards WICKED, he alone walked in the other direction.


	7. Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying this, thank you so much for the kudos!

Stiles stirred,  
"Hey" Derek softly called to Scott, Lydia and Allison. They looked up and hurried over. Derek crouched down by Stiles's elbow so not to startle ever, his eyes were still frantic when he opened them.  
"Where am I?" He demanded limbs flailing slightly  
"In a building. We've checked, no Cranks."  
Stiles nodded feverishly, eyes darting around.   
"Hey Stiles" Derek snapped his fingers in front of Stiles's face, he blinked and pulled his head back slightly glaring at the werewolf, "you ok?"  
Lydia gave Derek a withering look, "yeah he's totally fine, absolutely not in shock or anything."  
Stiles glanced up at her, grateful.   
His hands shook slightly, he kept them wrapped up in his jacket, guilt and pain rolled around in his chest. He'd killed Isaac, his friend. How had he done it?  
"I killed him" he whispered  
The others glanced at each other with sad expressions, "Stiles...you saved him. If you hadn't done that he'd have suffered so much more."  
"I still killed him. I shot him through the head." He couldn't continue. He swallowed.  
They sat in silence for a while longer. Each in their own thoughts. 

Stiles sat up suddenly, "we need to go."  
"Why?" Scott asked getting up  
"I can't just sit here. I need to do something" he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Lydia tightened her laces and pulled the bottoms of her combat trousers over her boots. 

Everyone wore similar clothes now; solid boots, grey army combat trousers, jackets with layers underneath. Early on they'd stumbled across a store room, the doors were locked but thanks to werewolf strength they'd broken in and found it to be a storage for army attire. They had geared up and set off. 

The sun was just as unforgiving as any other day. Yet they had the joy of blinding winds, it sprayed sand into their eyes forcing them to squint. It got to the stage where they had to wrap clothes around their faces so they could breathe, but the dust still wormed through. They fought through the dust leaning forwards into the wind. Dust danced through the soupy air spitting into them, they had arms up protecting their faces fruitlessly. Every effort to stop the sand proved useless. It forced through everything biting into their skin. It got so thick that the sun was nearly blotted out, only a darkly glowing circle remained in the sandy sky. Their clothes whipped around stinging them. Everything was featureless, they had to stay within a meter of each other to stay in sight, then a dark looming building popped into their sight. They slowly made their way to it, feet trying to find purchase in the loose earth. Eventually they fought to the entrance, they double doors had been ripped off, rusted hinges swung in the high winds, probably creaking but no sound was heard bar the roaring wind. They bundled in through the entrance gasping for breath,   
"Is everyone here?" Stiles croaked, his throat was dry after hours of sand blasting.   
They raised their hands in confirmation, to tired to speak. He then set about organising them; the werewolves would try to block the doors whilst he, Lydia and Allison would scour the building for Cranks. 

They found one dead person at the back of a cupboard, there were no sores so they hadn't been infected. A survivor. But obviously perished recently. Stiles grimaced as he rifled through the deceased's belongings. There was nothing valuable except from a small pocket knife. It was slightly rusted but useful nevertheless. 

The Pack sat round a fire that evening, it danced in the wind that whipped through the cracks. No one spoke, to exhausted to even try. Once again Derek volunteered to be on watch out,  
"Knock yourself out man" Scott mumbled before face planting his rucksack already deeply asleep.   
Stiles smiled at him then he too closed his eyes and was sucked into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

The fire was blown out during the night, no one went to rekindle it. Their slow breaths were the only sound in the area. The winds had died down now, the sand resettled against man made formations, nature reclaiming what was stolen. 

It was Allison who woke up first. She took a deep breath and opened her dark eyes, the Suns Ray's were mostly blocked by the broken walls. She sat up rubbing her eyes, some sand particles were still in the corners of her eyes and in her hair. She sighed and pulled out her plaits, shook out her curls and redid it. She made no effort to wake them up yet. Instead she sat listening to her world. 

The wind whistled through cracks, a high pitched screech, was the most prominent sound, but the heat seemed to squash it, smothering it. Gone were the sound of birds or cars, no more aeroplanes flew overhead, wings outstretched. Now the giggles of Cranks echoed though the vast plains, their incoherent shrieks a constant reminder how they could never truly escape them. They still sparked a flame of fear within her, but that was good, it kept her alive. She couldn't relax or they'd be killed. 

She sighed again and stood up stretching. One by one she woke up Lydia, Stiles, Scoot and Derek. Isaac's death was still raw and painful, she and him had been together for a while before the Scorch. They'd been through so much. She honestly didn't think she could have done what Stiles did. He had saved Isaac, saved him from himself. She was grateful for that, she couldn't face meeting him when he was fully Gone. Not like Melissa. 

"Alli? You ok?" Lydia asked hand on her shoulder. Allison nodded, plastering a small smile onto her cheeks.   
"Yeah. I'm fine" 

Stiles glanced up at the two girls while replacing his rucksack. Now their supplies were much fewer they each had their own medical supplies, food and water, small though it was. He fastened it closed then stood up.  
"You all ready?"   
Everyone agreed and they stepped out into the heat.  
It was sweltering, clammy. Their breaths didn't seem enough. Walking through sand is exhausting and to do this without exhausting all of their water supplies they had to be dehydrated. 

Even the werewolves - normally so resilient - were struggling today, the mix of losing Isaac, then heat and dehydration took its toll. Yet no one complained. They dug through the grains, struggling to find something. Anything. 

Dune after dune they conquered, only to see another five before them. Their spirits lowered as the day passed, trudging through the malleable sand. Soon there was more sand than foot in their boots. 

Eventually the dunes seemed to run out. They crested the final one gasping for breath, crouched over their knees. Stiles straightened up still breathing heavily. He glanced at Lydia who stood like a ruler of their broken world. His chest fluttered when he saw her, he still likes her a lot. Their time in the Scorch had brought them all closer, they were one Pack. The Banshee always was in control of her emotions, she was strong and secure. Everyone looked to her when they were troubled. 

He broke his stare and like her viewed the landscape. He frowned, he recognised this view. Where though he couldn't remember. Everything was blurring into one mash of memory. Then a flash. The glint caught his eye. He elbowed Scott and grunted at the light. Then the dust parted, the oval WICKED building blazed through the sand burning their retinas with blinding light.   
Derek was squinting at it mouth slightly open in stunned disbelief. Lydia and Allison were also in shock, they had finally reached WICKED  
"We did it man" Scott whispered, "we found it"   
Stiles didn't respond, he looked over at the others, relief and awe were clear on every single one of their faces. 

His heart sank, he knew his dream would play out, there was no way to change it. Everything always came to play eventually.   
He closed his eyes, hitched his rucksack higher over his shoulder and made to leave. He took a few steps in the opposite direction back into the Scorch grief swollen in his chest like a physical wound.   
"Hey! Stiles, where are you going? It's over there" Derek pointed at the complex  
Stiles stared at him, "I'm not going in"   
Everyone looked at him in disbelief, "what? Why?" Allison asked shocked,  
"Stiles this is what we've been searching for! This is a way out of the Scorch! We will be safe"  
"No. No we won't. I don't trust WICKED, everything they say is crap! They were ones who produced and released the Flare! Now what are they doing? Scraping up their mess! And you trust them?" His incredulous voice had risen to a shout, "you think I'm going to go in there?! No." His voice dropped back to normal volume, "you can go. I'm staying here."  
Scott shook his head, "Stiles, what are you talking about? WICKED will save us! They will protect us from the Flare, from the Cranks"  
"How? Sure they have fancy doors to block out the world and gadgets probably sprouting like a fountain from their ass but nothing will stop the Flare. Nothing" he pointed a finger at the group eyes wide. 

Derek seemed to be thinking hard, he frowned, nodded, "fine" he stated then began to leave towards WICKED.   
"Derek?"   
"I'm going Scott. If Stiles doesn't want to come he doesn't have to."  
"But we can't leave him out here?"   
Stiles scowled, he hated when people talked about him like he wasn't there  
"He's Pack" Scott was nearly wining  
"Yes he is, but we can't stop him. He...he is Pack but it means something else now. The Scorch changed that. Stiles can go, I'm going to WICKED."  
Scott looked from one friend to the other, he was in no-man's land. Should he go with Derek, his former Alpha and the only other werewolf, or Stiles his leader?

Stiles made the decision from him, "Scott, go with Derek."  
Scott opened his mouth but Stiles waved it away and pointed over at Derek who was waiting lower down the dune. His bet friend paused then walked over to Stiles and hugged him, taking Stiles by surprise. However he gratefully embraced Scott back, this would probably be the last time he ever saw his best friend. He squeezed his eyes shut,  
"Come with us Stiles" Scott begged, a final effort to convince Stiles  
"I'm sorry Scott, I can't. You go with Derek" he pulled away from Scott, "go save this Godforsaken earth for me" he smiled then clapped a hand in the werewolf so shoulder. 

Allison took only a moment to chose WICKED, she thanked Stiles then joined Derek and Scott.   
Lydia waited, she was looking at Stiles, hair still flying around her face in the wind, eyes squinted in the flare of the sun,   
"Stiles-"  
"Lydia you can't convince me to go with you-"  
"I wasn't trying to." She cut him off, a slight smile on her lips, "I know that once you've made up your mind, you can't be changed."  
"Thanks Lyds" he went closer to her and lowered his voice so that not even the werewolves could pick it up over the gusts of wind, "before I go, I...I wanted to tell you-"  
"You don't have to"  
Stiles looked up from his hands in surprise, how had she known?  
"You weren't exactly subtle Stiles" she grinned, "each morning I'd wake up to you right next to me. He often stare at me and always make sure I'm ok first."  
"I...um...I-"  
"You don't have to explain" she stepped closer, he stared into her eyes, deep grass green wove out into light emerald at the edges of her irises, he long eyelashes framed them perfectly. He leant in and they closed their eyes.

Scott watched them kiss, he smiled at them. Stiles still liked her and Lydia had always like him. He was sad that they were being ripped apart but glad they'd had this.

They broke apart smiling sadly,   
"Go Lydia, go with them"   
Tears shone in her eyes, but she was strong. She took in a deep breath and nodded. She picked up her back and departed down the slope. 

Stiles watched them the turned around and left. 

As he was leave the realised, in the dream he had argued with Scott and Derek much more, and he hadn't kissed Lydia. Somehow he had managed to alter the dream, slightly, not enough to stop them leaving but it was a start.

 

The Pack slowly approached the building. It was so incongruous in this setting, it's sterile white walls were surrounded by the filthy earth. They didn't say anything as they came closer, only their laboured breaths were heard. Thankfully the place was protected from the wind, it no longer whipped into their faces and blinded them.   
Suddenly Lydia halted, Allison nearly bumped into her back.  
"Should we do this?" Her voice was slightly scratchy from the dust and hours of not using it.  
"What do you mean?" Asked Derek  
"Should we go in there? I mean Stiles was so adamant about not going in...what if he knew something?" She looked back to try and see their friend that wasn't there.  
"We couldn't get him now, he'll be long gone, also we don't know where he went"  
Lydia looked crestfallen and confused  
"Lydia" Scott stepped forwards and took her shoulder, "we've come this far, this is what we have always been looking for, this could save us."  
She sighed and nodded tucking her hair behind her ears, "OK" she whispered

Derek nodded and set off again but he had only walked forwards a couple of steps when people gushed out of some doors, they were clad in black; helmets, sturdy boots and combats all the same monotone colour. They also had weapons raised. The fountain of bodies spread out in a fan around the Pack who drew closer.  
"Who are you? Are you Cranks?" A voice shouted from the identical crowd  
"We've come for refuge. Are you WICKED?" Derek called back  
"We ask the questions here. Are you infected?"  
"No"  
"How do you know?"  
"We've fought enough Cranks to know when you're infected"

A short pause then unanimously the soldiers lowered their weapons slightly. a man broke from the line, he didn't wear a helmet, his face was narrow, like a rat's face. He swaggered up to them, he must be the leader of the men,  
"Who are you? What do you want? How did you find us?"  
"My names Derek, Derek Hale. That's Scott Mcall, Lydia Martian and Allison Argent" he indicated each one out with a gesture.  
"You haven't answered my other questions"   
Derek narrowed his eyes, he didn't like this guy, seemed to up himself for his own good, "we heard that you can save us, save everyone from the Flare. We want to help. We came from California, Beacon Hills, and have walked this whole way."  
The rat faced man seemed to consider the group of four. 

He nodded then smiled, "my name is Janson, welcome to WICKED."


	8. New leaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken ages. I have A levels next week so may be very inconsistent. Thank you for the kudos!!

It had been a year and a half since the Pack had joined WICKED. It only took until the medical for WICKED to find out that Scott and Derek were not normal and that something was strange with Lydia. The physical pushed the werewolves to their limits, from behind glass clipboards ticked boxes and muted confirmations were exchanged.   
Janson led the four through long bland corridors, past locked doors and barred windows. Finally a final door stood before them,  
"Go inside, wait for her to talk first."  
Then he pushed open the door and went in.  
They were confused, after a huge sensory overload they were now being interrogated? Derek raised an eyebrow, shrugged then entered. 

A woman sat behind a desk, she was dressed all in white: trousers, blouse, jacket, shoes. Everything. Her desk was pristine, everything was ordered and in a set place. Her hands were gently clasped in front of her, her legs were crossed beneath the table.  
"So, what are you?" She smiled at them but her was no kindness in her eyes, she looked directly into their eyes making them fidget under her icy gaze.   
"Well?"  
Scott glanced at Derek who gave a warning eyebrow  
Scott looked back at the woman, "we are..."  
"Tell me, or I will ask in a...not so civil way"  
"Werewolves."  
She raised an eyebrow  
"I'm not, I'm a Banshee" Lydia didn't know why she was saying this, they would think that they were crazy and would throw them back out into the Scorch  
"I'm a human" Allison interrupted her thoughts, she was nervously picking her nails, her heart rate was rising, she could feel her pulse move her slightly. This woman made her extremely nervous, her gaze was unwavering and so intrusive that Allison felt she couldn't hide anything.  
"Werewolves...a banshee...a human. Well isn't that an eclectic mix." She studied them ppeering at each individual for a good few seconds. She nodded, unclasped her hands and pushed her seat away from the desk and stood up. Her face was devoid of emotion, her right bun stretched her skin back emphasising her sharp cheekbones. She remained silent, the werewolves fidgeted nervous and Allison found Lydia's hand who gave her a quick smile of reassurance even though she herself was terrified.  
"You survived the Scorch. You came to us for help. We gave you that help. Now you shall help us. We need to find someone, someone who could be the solution to our global problem, he could save everyone. Help us find him."  
Scott flashed his eyes Alpha Crimson and lifted his chin, "we will help you"  
The others looked slightly uncomfortable but stood by Scott, they had to stick close now, they couldn't lose any more.  
The woman in white smiled a tight lipped smile, "my name is Ava Paige, welcome to your new lives."

WICKED had everything, technology was spewing out of every room, information was ready at the slightest indication it was needed. Lydia and Allison were directed to the room where computers showed reams and reams of information, maps glowed on the screens. They had access to innumerable files and secrets, but not every one they hadn't the clearance. Whilst Allison wanted to be out fighting she loved what she was doing, she was still an Argent and the women were leaders. They were part of the team that directed the soldiers. 

Scott and Derek's line of work. They were trained even more vigorously than the human soldiers, testing their supernatural limits. Not long after they were given earbuds connecting to both Allison and Lydia. They were a team again, the girls relayed information to the wolves who took out Cranks efficiently. Lydia was especially helpful, she had been trained for her powers, now she could extend the range of her 'scan' to find any dead or dying people, whether Crank or not. 

All the while they were searching for the Saviour. The person who could save humanity...or what was left of it. Everyday they scoured the earth searching for him. They had seen no images of him, they simply followed the orders of Janson. He was a huge dick but he knew what he was doing. Derek often scowled silently at him instead of answering him.

They were sitting in the Berg in the area to be opened to the earth when they landed, their special electroshock rifles sat across their laps. In front of them was a big screen showing the birds eye view of the ground. Shattered buildings and broken cars were strewn over the land.   
"Any signs?" A voice crackled fro the speaker  
"None, sir" Scott put a finger to his earpiece whilst still checking the screen. He pushed a small button in the piece and connected to Lydia and Allison, "can you see anything?"  
"Not yet, we will keep watching"  
"I wonder what he looks like" Derek interrupted their short conversation, he was resting his head against the metal wall relaxed and in control, "I mean, he probably has no idea how important he is."  
"I just hope he's still alive and no Crank has killed him yet."  
"Jeez Scott" Allison laughed, "don't be such a downer" she smiled as she flicked her vision between the keyboard and the monitor. She was extending her range of sight from the Berg's cameras trying to find the unknown Saviour. Something caught her eye, she leaned in closer to the screen,

"Guys we have movement"

~~~~~~~

Stiles had been crouching silently behind a broken table laying on its side, he had kept his breathing soft to reduce the possibility to be heard. Around 20 Cranks had wandered into the building he was in now, just his luck. He was just about to leave to add salt to the injury. He grimaced as pain shot through his side, he pushed a hand into it trying to numb it.   
The Cranks were still shuffling around, he could see a few of them. They were the furthest Gone he had ever seen. They were thin, so thin flesh peeled away from their bones showing their skeletons underneath in some places. Their muscles were wasted away, how they were still moving Stiles didn't know. Stiles blinked heavily as his vision suddenly fuzzed out, sweat was running down his face, a mix of the sweltering heat and an illness that swept round hand-in-hand with his blood. He blinked heavily to clear his sight and when he looked up the Cranks were once more in HD. He sighed, he should check on his side as soon as he can, the pain was rising steadily. He breathed out a sharp breath.

A Crank spun round unsteadily, it had heard his exhalation. It used to be man, now all its hair had gone, replaced by sores and scars. It's mouth lolled open, teeth crooked and brown, it had a tongue but it seemed to have been chewed off partially, by itself or someone else he didn't want to know. Lips were cracked and dried blood clotted around it. Some sort of fungus seemed to be living at the edges of his mouth too, it also spread down across its body, popping up in various spots. It's clothes were torn and shredded, the trousers were huge around its hip bones, clearly becoming a Crank made you forget about nourishment. The mad eyes sprung around trying to find the source of the small sound. It's crooked frame lumbered around searching, arms twitching and jerking by its sides, the feet dragged around never really leaving the floor. Stiles brought himself closer in, he was crouched and stock still. His heart was racing, the Crank must be able to hear it, his lungs were starting to feel deprived of oxygen but he daren't take a deep breath in in case he was heard. 

The Crank was getting closer, it's head twitched to the sides trying to ear from its one ear, the other had been ripped off. It's breaths were as ragged as its clothes. Stiles's heart felt ready to burst, adrenaline rushes through him making him feel cold and his muscles started to shake from anticipation of an escape, his hands clenched and unclenched, his daggers were mere centimetres away but it would draw attention. The Crank was directly over him now, he could see the crown of its head cresting the wooden table. A scabbed and withered hand crept over the edge and it gripped the side, it's fingernails hand been ripped out and two digits looked broken and disfigured. He pressed himself into the flimsy hiding space. His heart was palpitating, he could feel every nerve ending alive with fire, he needed to escape.

A clang ripped through the silence. Stiles, so on edge, jumped back scraping the table along the floor but the Crank had spun round still grasping the table so it dragged slightly on the floor covering Stiles's movement. One Crank had bumped into a pile of rusted metal pipes and had sent them cascading down on top of it smothering the Crank. This was his time to flee, he stood up slowly watching the figures of the Cranks as they approached the pile of metal. 

Stiles took a silent step, then another and another soon he was jogging towards the exit. He kept his eyes on the Cranks. His foot caught on a lying piece of rubble and he tumbled to the ground with a crash, arms flailing. 

Every singe Crank spun round to see him,  
"Shit"   
He sprang up and began to sprint, he crashed through doors and dashed down empty corridors filled with rubble. They were closing in. Their screams and shrieks reverberated on the bare walls full of cracks and holes. A corner veered up next to him and made to turn down it but he was running too fast he crashed into the wall with a heavy grunt before pushing off and sprinting down another hall. Some of the diseased monsters had gotten crushed when all of them collided around the corner, they lay on the ground but Stiles didn't waste any time on them he pushed hiss adding legs harder than he ever had, his lungs were burning demanding oxygen. The agony in his side rocketed up to sky high levels. He was gasping for the dry air arms pumping by his sides pushing his faster forwards. He extended his legs lengthening his strides as he sped forwards but the Cranks seemed to also find another burst of energy as they too gained more speed.

A final corner and a door. His racing heart leapt at the sight, he could lose them amounts the buildings. Unfortunately the doors were closed and he didn't have the time to stop and open them. He twisted his torso slightly reigniting his side and hunched his back preparing for impact. The doors burst open when his shoulder collided with the hot metal. The sun glared down its unforgiving gaze in him, he couldn't worry about that now. He glanced up trying to find an escape but instead he saw huge hovering structure. They'd found him. WICKED had come.


	9. Close call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying this. sorry about any spelling errors, this hasn't been edited. Comments and kudos are much appreciated!

The screen was focused on one building, it used to be a skyscraper but now it's windows had all fallen out, jagged glass teeth leered in the windows and the whole structure had collapsed onto another it was held up but another collapsing structure. Scott and Derek, however, were focused on the exit points, Lydia and Allison had spotted something or someone moving inside it. They were waiting for what ever it was to come out. 

Some doors sprang open and a figure dashed out of the entrance. It was a man, he was wearing dust covered combat trousers, an olive jacket and solid boots. He looked around as he came out still running. He glanced up at the Berg for a micro second then carried on running.   
"Allison did you get his face?" Asked Scott still watching the person run.  
"No it was too quick"  
Scott wondered what he was running from.  
Around twenty Cranks streamed out of the exit all screaming wildly. That clearly answered his question  
"We are going to set you down. Get ready, you'll have to get through the Cranks to get to him."  
Derek cocked his weapon grimace in place, Scott stood up and readied his rifle and pushed on his helmet visor snapped down.

Stiles was running. He dodged between strewn vehicles and concrete blocks that had crumbled from the disintegrating buildings. His legs pounded on the compact earth dust coughed up around his soles. He glanced behind to see all the Cranks stream out of the twin doors, they were relentless, they never gave up until their prey was dead. 

Stiles could feel himself tiring, his running was becoming more and more inefficient, his chest was pushed out in front of his, head was tilted slightly back, arms digging at the air and his strides were becoming shorter the more he tried to extend his legs. His muscles were shot, no energy left. Everything had been used up, no more adrenaline to help him now.

A body flung itself on top of him, on of the speedier Cranks had caught up with him. Stiles wriggled around and came nose to missing nose with a screaming Crank. The thing grasped Stiles's shoulders and made to bite his cheek, in that spilt second Stiles flung an arm out to his side and felt a metal rod, he heaved it up and smashed it against the Crank's skull, not hard enough to kill it unfortunately but enough to to throw it off him. He twisted back round to scramble away but the Crank was fast and it jabbed out a hand holding fast onto his ankle. Stiles came crashing down to the earth again with a smack.

The man was crawling up him now it's movements were jerky and erratic, but very quick. Stiles hadn't let go of the pole and he managed to get it above his chest to hold off the rabid man. It scrabbled to push it away but Stiles locked his arms. He was breathing heavily, cheeks puffing out with the effort. His arms were shaking with the weight of the struggling Crank. The man's jaw was snapping shut again and again trying to bite down on Stiles.   
Stiles saw, in his peripheral vision, the Berg slowly lowering whilst firing at the other Cranks, already half lay dead or dying. 

The Crank's weight suddenly vanished as it brought itself up then crashed down on him again, his arms couldn't take it anymore and they buckled. The Crank collapsed on his chest. The Crank wasted no time and whilst Stiles's arms were stuck under the metal pole it bit down hard on his shoulder. 

The Cranks' teeth ploughed through muscle and tendons, Stiles screamed. He kicked out his legs in an attempt to dislodge the Crank. The thing clamped down even harder making him cry out even more. Stiles desperately yanked on the metal rod which slid out from between their torsos and Stiles made to hit it again but then it jerked head ripping up from Stiles's shoulder blood spraying from its mouth and lay still. Stiles was breathing heavily in shock then shoved the dead Crank off him. 

He looked around and saw five WICKED soldiers aiming rifles at him.  
"Shit" Stiles was having a very bad day today.  
He sat up then pushed his legs straight and made to stumble away, left hand clamped down on his right shoulder, the right arm wrapped around his wounded left side.  
"Stand still, you're coming with us"   
Stiles didn't turn around to face them, he was focused on controlling his breathing and not moving his injuries too much.  
A broken car was crumpled to his left and in the shattered glass he could see two of the detachment approaching him. They had rifles aimed at him. He blinked heavily sucking in deep breaths as he staggered slightly. They paused. He took his opportunity and dashed off to the right. He only took four steps before an arcing agony shot through his back. He arched and spasmed as his fell to the ground face first. The small metal pins sent another wave of electricity through him as the shooter lowered their rifle. He lay twitching on the ground as they approached. The shooter rolled him onto his side. 

Stiles closed his eyes as the movement sent waves of agony through him, he felt nauseous. The world swam when he opened his eyes, his vision blurred and swayed.  
He heard them talking mutely then felt hands left him up. He groaned trying to throw them off but he had no strength left. They looped his arms around their shoulders making him cry out weakly in pain, his feet dragged in the sand as he was lead to the Berg. 

The mouth of the undercarriage leered at him as he was brought towards it. His heart sank, once he was in he'd never be able or get out. At least he would be infected soon so he could rip all of their throats out. He was staring at the ground and when the sand solidified to metal he knew he had reached it. He was in the Berg. He was dragged past several soldiers who were staring at him but they wouldn't be able to get a good look as his head was lolling down, exhaustion having taken hold.

Another few words and the canvas bench in front of them was evacuated. The soldiers supporting him lifted him onto the material. He tried to fight them off but he couldn't. He felt hot. Too hot, his breathing was coming in gasps. He knew he was infected with something, Crank-itis or something else, it was agony. He tilted his head as to try and escape the pain. 

A gentle hand touched his left shoulder sending a dull ache through him even at mere contact.   
"Can you hear me?" The voice was fuzzy but audible, "blink of you can hear me" Stiles lowered his eyelids and nodded slightly to prove he was stronger than they thought even though it made him feel worse.   
"Harris give me the First-Aid. He had two major injures sir." A pause, "yes sir, it looks like he was stabbed by something, it is a small entry wound but I do not know how deep it goes."   
"Running from...Crank" Stiles whispered, his voice was barely audible even to himself.   
"Sir, he just told me its for running from a Crank... How'd you do it?"  
"Ran...into metal...in wall"   
"Sir he ran into some metal sticking out of a wall...Yes sir. The other injury is a bite...from a Crank yes sir...on his right shoulder, just below his neck."  
There was a longer pause but Stiles zoned out at the point, everything dissolved and the nausea rocketed up, he felt himself be pushed onto his side and he vomited up...red?   
"He's vomiting up blood sir, what should I do?" The voice sounded frantic, but Stiles didn't care.

His right arm hung over the side of the seat his fingertips brushing the floor, his head lolled over the side staring down at the ground. The hands brought his back onto his back but that movement was the final piece, he felt his eyes roll back into his head as he succumbed to unconsciousness.


	10. Across the hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is quite short and not a regular update I have A levels right now, anyways enjoy! Kudos and comments appreciated :)

Scott felt his mouth was still open. Nothing had prepared him for this event; Stiles lay unconscious and bleeding on the canvas seat, his eyes were still and his skin pale. His hair had grown since when they separated, his bangs flopped over his forehead making his pale parlour event more stark.   
"Scott?" Lydia and Allison were practically shouting in his ear, he jumped when he registered their voices  
"What?" He replied not taking his eyes off Stiles  
"Who is it?"  
"It's...it's Stiles"  
An unbroken silence stretched between the four for a moment  
"Stiles?" Lydia whispered, she was frozen staring down at her keyboard the letters shining up at her,, her finger was pressed into the earpiece.   
"He's the Saviour?" Derek asked slightly incredulously, "he's tough to save us?"  
Scott looked up at his former Alpha the same question ringing in his ears.

Stiles took in a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes started to flutter beneath his eyelids, sweat glistened on his brow,  
"He's got a fever, a mixture of the infection and shock sir" Tindsley relayed the information back to Janson who was sitting behind his desk at the compound.  
Finally Scott broke from his revere, "we need to get back as soon as possible" he dipped into a run and sprinted dos the corridors to the cockpit, he burst the door open, "get this Berg going now! We need to get back asap, he's as he said this he felt his stomach drop, Stiles was dying. His best friend who was too stubborn to listen to them as dying, "COME ON!" He yelled eyes glinting crimson, the pilot seems to get the idea and pushed harder on the throttle the Berg sped forward covering miles of sand and dunes.

Scott left the cockpit and pushed a button on his earpiece, "we need a medic at the entrance, he's wounded and needs immediate medical attention, he's passed out-"  
"Mcall it's done, both Hale and Tindsley have called in." A harsh voice reprimanded him, Scott took his finger away and continued marching back to the undercarriage. The doors opened with a soft hiss of compressed air, Scott took in a deep breath and stepped through. He sat quietly in the corner of the area watching Stiles.

The Berg lowered into the landing area with a deafening roar. Touchdown, also the immediately the far wall lowered into a ramp where a small group of worried faces scampered up the metal carrying a stretcher, they pulled up by Stiles and at once gently lifted him onto it, then they turned and dashed out again, Scott and Derek hurried after them after getting the go ahead from Janson. 

Stiles's head shifted slightly from side to side as they whirled round the corners to the medical wing. They passed glass fronted rooms and steel doors with faces peering out through them. Finally they pulled up by the operating room, the final two prisoners pressed their faces up to the small glass panel of their rooms, one was an Asian boy who glared at Scott and Derek with a venomous hatred almost palpable. The other was a tall thin boy with floppy blonde hair that lolled over his forehead in a messy fringe, they still wore the same clothes they wore in the Trials both Maze and Scorch. These were the two most promising assets, but now with Stiles they were put back a place.

Scott pulled up at the doors which swung back in his face. Stiles was dragged out of sight to be fixed up by the paramedics. He hoped he's be fine. Scott couldn't wait for Stiles to rejoin them again. 

 

Newt looked over at Minho in the opposite cells and mouthed to him,  
"Who was that?"  
Minho shrugged and raised an eyebrow, "WICKED?" He mouthed  
Newt shook his head, he knew that kid wasn't part of this, "he came from the Scorch" his clothes were filthy, only living in the Scorch could get your clothes that dirty. He knew from experience.  
"Shank looked pretty beat up" Minho mouthed  
Newt squinted his eyes, "ya think slinthead?"   
Minho stuck his middle finger up at his friend smirking.  
"Hey!" The asshole with the beard hit their doors silencing them temporarily  
"Who was that?" Minho shouted through the thick door, his breath steamed up the glass  
"None of your business" crooked jaw responded but he had a faraway look in his eyes  
"You know him?" Newt yelled,  
"No" they both answered shortly, too short. The Gladers glanced at each other knowing the answer  
"Who is he?" They both asked  
"Shut up" Beardy snapped and stalked off.


	11. Awake and fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are any spelling errors, this isn't beta'd :)

He was tired, tired but he knew he'd been asleep for a long time. He frowned slightly, his brow twitching down as he woke up. He blinked his eyes open to see blinding white. He groaned and clenched his eyelids closed again. Next attempt he squinted slowly letting the light filter in and gradually opened up his eyes.

He felt amazing, tired but really well. He hadn't felt like this in months. He made to sit up bit found he was restricted by wires. He scowled at them and tore the leads off him, he ripped out the IV line and swung his legs over the bed edge. He slowly stood up and spotted a door. Part of his thought to stay inside and get back into the soft bed. He ignored that part and instead stepped out into a metal clad hallway. Fluorescent strip lights dangled down from the ceiling. The corridor stretched out for mergers on either side of him. He looked left and chose that direction. The doors behind him quietly clanged shut, he scrunched his shoulders and pressed himself into on of the many doors on either side of the hall.

He waited and no one came, he rested his head against the cool metal and closed his eyes. Obviously he'd been given some sort of drug as he was starting to feel slightly less fantastic now, his numerous injuries were starting to make themselves known again.

He dropped his head onto his chest and sighed. He turned his head to the side and saw two big brown eyes staring at him  
"Holy-" Stiles leapt away from the door, the eyes followed, his heart was racing in his chest as he backed up into the opposite wall. He felt another door and was faced with another set of dark eyes.  
He yelled again and stood in the middle of the hall.  
"Who are you?" He asked the two boys  
"Back at ya shuck face" the Asian boy asked him, neither showed any emotions, "you with WICKED?"  
Stiles snorted in derision, then froze, "WICKED?" He stared at the confused his mind raced as he suddenly remembered everything; the Crank, the bite, the electroshock pulsing through him, the Berg taking him away from freedom. He blinked and swore. He paced in a circle, hands running through his hair, "shit shit shit"  
"Take it your not a fan" the blonde boy smirked  
Stiles glared at him, "you're one smart cookie" he snapped, "as it turns out, no, I'm not. I never trusted them, ever since they started preaching about a cure I didn't trust them. It's said they did some jacked up experiments on kids-"  
"Hellooo, what do you think we're doing here? On holiday?" The Asian boy waved a sarcastic hand at him through the glass

Stiles stopped pacing, "what? You...you're the...wow"  
"What's your name?" The Blonde asked  
"Stiles"  
"I'm Newt and over there's Minho" Newt pointed out his friend  
"How long have you guys been in here?"  
"Everscind the Berg saved us from the lightbulb monsters" Minho answered  
"The what?"  
"Huge creatures which had lightbulbs on its joints and stuff, doesn't matter" Minho brushed it off, "can you get us out of here?"  
Stiles went closer to his door, "there needs to be a card, who has them?"  
"Janson, he's the head dick-"  
"Stiles, our Saviour!" A delighted voice echoed through the hallway, "it seems your awake"  
"Your observation skills obviously are unmatched" Stiles muttered earning a chuckle from Minho, "you are?" He called out slowly moving into the middle of the hall, his side warned him not to do anything stupid as it twinged slightly the drugs wearing off even more.  
"Name's Janson, but right now, you need to come with me. We have some things we need to talk about."  
"Oh yeah, what might they be?" Stiles watched as four soldiers pepperpotted towards him (A/N this is where there are two groups, one moves forwards while the other often provides covering fire, then the second group up moves forwards and overtakes the first group now providing covering fire) whilst raising their electroshock rifles.  
"You are the Saviour Stiles. In your brain is the answer to everything, you can save the world, not many people can say that can they?"  
"No one can say that and live to tell the tale" he plainly stated, "this conversation will be rather one sided won't it? Either I accept and die, or I don't and I still die. Odds aren't looking too great now are they?" 

"Stiles" a voice broke through the tense so lined that followed his reply. Stiles felt his eyes widen, four people stepped out from the bundle of bodies behind Janson: Scott, Derek, Lydia and Allison. They smiled at him and began to run towards him, hot tears pricked his eyes as he too began to approach them. They collided together in four 'oofs' of expelled air, he gripped them tight, so tight. He didn't want to let go, "I thought I'd never see you guys again" the tears wound their way down his cheeks, his voice was muffled as he spoke into the fabric of his Packs clothes. He breathed in thier smell, he frowned slightly. They smelled different, sterile almost. He pulled away brow knotted together, "you smell different" he looked at them closely, their eyes were so happy but there was a slight glint of nerves,like they were hiding something they didn't want to say; over his time in the Scorch he'd become better at reading people, "what's going on? Scott?"  
"Stiles, please just-" Scott reached out a hand as though to suck Stiles into WICKED with him  
Stiles backed up, his heart shattering again, "not you too?" Tears were streaming down his face again, not out of joy but betrayal, "don't say it, don't you say it...not you"  
"Just come with us Stiles, listen to him. It makes so much sense, please Stiles"  
Stiles let him approach him until he was close enough to touch. Close enough to punch too, Scott's head snapped back from the force of Stiles's punch.  
"Get away from me Mcall"anger pulsed through Stiles, how could they betray him like this? Scott blinked at Stiles, he again tried to approach Stiles,  
"God your stupid Scott" he muttered to himself took a step closer and took hold of Scott's jacket, he spun him round and threw him to the floor with a grunt. Stiles spun round to see Derek running towards him eyes glowing,  
"Stiles calm down!"  
"You're one to talk" Stiles sidestepped the werewolf and stuck out a foot to send the man flying ass over face, simple but dirty trick he'd found to be very affective against charging Cranks.  
Lydia and Allison were less stupid and stated away from Stiles, "Stiles, just don't do anything you'll regret. Come with us"  
Stiles was upset, no devastated, that they had been completely brainwashed by WICKED, but his anger was still overriding it at the moment "Very poor choice of words" Stiles muttered again crouching down into a better combat stance, his hand instinctively went for his dagger but his hand only brushed the cotton of the hospital trousers. 

Janson stepped closer hands up to seem pacifying and open but Stiles saw right through the facade. The slimy git was coming in at an offensive direction. Looking for weak spots. However, as he moved Stiles caught sight of a small silver key card, just what was needed to open up Minho and Newt's doors. He glanced back up at the man's smirking face he'd thought he's already won. Rule number one: never underestimate your enemy. Stiles scanned the man in a second, he was tall and by his smooth movements Stiles could tell he can fight. However, he was not that powerful looking, Stiles guessed he played dirty. Seems like the kind of person. His weight was on his heels, not agile, heavy footed, so sturdy but not fast. Stiles balled up his hands into fists and brought them up to his face, shielding him. He moved his centre of gravity to the balls of his feet and waited for the man to come. What he didn't expect was the electric shock to run through his body. He spasmed and fell to the ground. He saw Derek lying on his back with his rifle pointing at Stiles, a grim line showed the guilt of his actions.

Stiles tried to swear at him but his only groaned as hands roughly pulled him up again and shoved him into a cell next to Newt. Both the boys were shouting, swearing and hitting the cell doors. Obviously there must be other boys as soon a huge swell of noise was crashing through the hallway echoing off the metal walls and hurting everyone's ears. Stiles grinned at them, "you won't win. It's not in your nature" he said as the door slammed shut. Stiles slumped against the back wall and slid down from one slightly as his side scolded him for the sudden movements. He rested his head back onto the concrete wall and slid his eyes shut again, waiting for the next move.


	12. Cell talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken soooooo long to post, I have had so much stuff on recently. But now I hope that I can post more regularly now! Enjoy, kudos and comments are much appreciated :)

"So were you with the others then? I mean before you were caught?" Minho called through the walls a while after Stiles watched his friends slam a door in his face  
"Yeah" he sighed, "Scott and I were best friends before, Lydia, Allison, Derek we all lived in the same town and were part of the same pack"  
"You call five a pack?" Replied Minho  
"We had more"   
"What happened?"  
"Wat'dya think slinthead?" Newt bit back in a scathing tone, Stiles smirked grateful of the boys intervention, he never let his thoughts drift to the lost members of his family, both blood and supernatural. It was too painful, even after all these long and hard years.  
The trio fell silent. 

"Yo, greenie"  
Stiles looked up and said nothing thinking it was a nickname Minho had given Newt  
"Greenie!"  
Stiles frowned, why wasn't Newt replying?  
"Stiles!"  
"Me?"   
"Yeah shuck face, you!"  
"Sorry, didn't realise I'd been christened with a new name"  
"Old habits die hard, it's what we called our newest members in the glade."  
"Right...what did you want to ask?"  
At first there was no reply, "What was it like?" Minho suddenly sounded small and vulnerable, the usual small talk of the other boys from the glade halted as everyone shuffled closer to their doors to hear Stiles.  
He sat for a minute thinking, he opened his mouth to explain, "...it...it was..." He paused, "we...I...sudden."  
"What?"   
"The solar flare was so fast, apparently millions were killed instantly...my dad included..."  
"Shuck man, I'm sorry I-"  
"It's fine." Stiles shortly interrupted him, he needed to say it now he'd started. He told them his tale, from the first heat pulse right to his capture.

"That's all folks..." He slowly wiped away the tears that had been falling steadily since he described his father's death, complete silence enveloped the corridor as every boy processed what he'd heard  
"Jeez man, that's so jacked up, I'm so sorry." Newt said softly  
"I always wanted to know what it was like outside, but hearing that...now I'm not so sure" Minho sounded humbled and much less brash now.  
The Gladers once more elapsed into silence.

"Funny name, Stiles"   
Stiles looked up from the spot on the ground where he'd been staring, wincing slightly as his injuries in his neck and left side reminded him they were still there, "hm?"  
"You've got one strange name"  
He huffed out a laugh, "tell me about it, it's not even my real name, it's a nickname I chose. My real name is polish, my mums choice. Something I can barely pronounce."  
Minho whistled and Stiles smirked again and stood up stretching his arms above his head, trying to ignore how his body punished him for the action, and walked over to the window to see Minho leaning against his door too.  
"Gotta admit, when you first said it I thought I'd misheard you say the name Thomas."  
"Thomas?"  
"Yeah, you look like a Thomas."  
"Really?"  
"I can see that" Minho interjected peering at Stiles, "in the Maze when you first come up, after the mental eraser has had its turn on you you can remember jack. Literally nothing. Except your name, even those weren't real. I don't know what my real name is. But now I am Minho. You could be Thomas, start fresh"  
Stiles thought, head bowed, Thomas did sound inviting, a fresh start, new leaf and all. He looked up, "sure, Thomas it is then" he grinned  
"Hey! Meet Thomas! Our Greenie!" Minho suddenly hollered through the metal door  
Newt next door began chanting, "Thomas! Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!" The shout was taken up by all the boys and soon all of them were yelling his name some banging their flat palms on the doors too, some stamping. The cacophony worked them all into a sort of frenzy, bellowing and screaming in some cases the same name over and over. Stiles wooped along laughing, he felt almost bonded with the Gladers and he loved it. He'd found his new Pack.

The door at the end of the tunnel slammed open and a guard stood in the door way red faced and angry, "enough! Shut it!"  
"Woahohoho! Mister over there is getting all worked up guys!" Minho yelled grinning, "better slim it right?"   
The Gladers all laughed and raised the volume even more, the guard took out a baton and began hitting the individual doors shouting at them to shut up, obviously the reverse happened, every boy was riled up and they taunted the man hurting insults at him and generally pissing him off. His face popped up by Stiles who casually stood leaning on the door frame and smiled lazily at the man on the other side of the door, he even raised a hand and wiggled his fingers in a mocking greeting, "bad day at the office?" He asked lightly.   
Newt laughed, "nice one Tommy"   
The guard pulled away from the glass and set off down the hall ignoring the cat-calls and jeers as he went past, "aw come back!" Minho pouted, "we were having fun!"  
Mocking laughter rang out as the guard stalked out and slammed the door with a clang,  
"You run back to mama!" Minho yelled as Newt hooted with mirth next to Stiles.   
For the next four or five hours the Gladers were left alone. Not much was said between anyone.  
Stiles was dozing in the back corner of his cell when he heard a soft knock on his door. He sat up but stayed silent. The door opened and a figure stepped in and closed the door. Stiles stood up preparing to defend himself.   
The person approached Stiles, arm slightly stretched out towards Stiles, he reacted by grabbing the unsuspecting wrist pulling them closer and swiped their feet from under them,  
"Woah!" A voice semi-shouted, "geez what the hell dude?"   
"Scott?" Stiles pulled back frowning  
"Yeah? Who else?"  
Stiles didn't reply  
"Are you ok man?" Scott got up and brushed himself down  
"Fine" stiles shortly replied  
"Stiles?"  
"What? Scott. What do you want me to say? You're on the side of the people I hate."  
"Couldn't you be less stubborn and at least try-"  
"Oh for f- no I couldn't!" Stiles started to roughly counting on his fingers the reasons, "one" he stuck his middle finger up, Scott frowned, "you sided with my enemy. Two, you didn't try to stop them when I was being chased by those Cranks-"  
"We didn't know it was you!"  
"Even if it wasn't me, don't shoot a guy! I thought you were all for the 'non-violent' options" Stiles wiggled his fingers surrounding his statement with inverted commas  
"Things change" Scott answered looking down  
"Clearly"  
"What else"  
Stiles bent his knees slightly and looked up laughing,p to himself, "oh my god Scott! Where to begin?! My main reason. You wanna hear that?"  
"Yeah, actually I do!" Scotts voice was gradually raising too to meet Stiles  
"You tried to make me join" Stiles brought his voice down to a horrible venomous hiss and in a very quick movement was practically nose to nose with Scott  
"Hey!" Newt called thorough the wall, "Tommy? You ok man?"  
"Tommy? Whose Tommy?" Scott answered drawing away from Stiles' furious eyes  
" 'M fine Newt" Stiles didn't take his eyes off Scott  
"What?" His former best friends face slipped into the old mould he once wore most of the time: confused puppy  
"I thought you had cameras or something in here? You must've heard our conversations? No? Well, Scott, I seem to have found a new...Pack."  
"You what?" Scott's confusion evaporated under the heat from his Alphas glare , "you can't leave the Pack!"  
"I did Scott. The moment we parted ways all those months ago." The two men glared at each other, "now, you obviously didn't come here for a chat. What do you want?"  
Scott didn't reply at once, "we need to take you for an interview with the director."  
"Isn't that I little above your pay grade? I thought you're just muscle."  
Scott's first swung neatly past Stiles as he leant back and dodged, "nice swing you got there. Too bad you haven't had to avoid Cranks for a good year. That really makes you nimble" stiles heard Newt snigger next door  
"Enough" Scott whispered, not aggressively, more defeated  
As though by an unheard order the door at the end of the corridor swung open and a squad of guards jogged down the hall. They formed up outside his cell, rifles slung around their backs  
"Those have got a mean punch to them." Stiles commented gesturing at the weapons in a very blasé jammer as he walked out, "You tried it? No? Well I'd be happy to show you, if you ever need it" he winked and followed the soldiers down the hall, he glanced back to see Scott standing by his cell. Stiles was glad, he didn't want to be near Scott right now. 

Stiles was led down the corridor soldiers cutting off each option for escape. He kept his eyes flicking from side to side catching those of the boys within the metal rooms. The soldiers surrounding Stiles kept tight in their formation as they marched round corners and sharp turns. Every hall was the same, concrete walls, pipes stretching out ahead pouring out the direction and harsh fluorescent bare light bulbs humming in the silence only broken by the uniform sound of booted feet marching. 

Even though he was nervous at what was coming he kept a emotionless face. A small cough from within the ranks made him glance at the man and he felt his eye widen, Scott's dark eyes were staring right at him. Stiles though he'd stayed behind. Scott pulled an apologetic face, even thought the lower part of his face was covered by a sheet of black fabric that attached to his helmet, Stiles could tell that he was mouthing that he was sorry for the earlier...conversation. Stiles grimaced and faced forwards. 

After a particularly quick corner Stiles felt his side flare up in a flash of agony, he sucked in a breath and gently pushed his palm into it, no blood, his stitches were holding. For now. 

The lack of sound was uncomfortable;  
"So where you lovely lads taking me then?" He loudly asked  
"Silence" a gruff voice hissed back  
"Sorry." Stiles huffed, "just interested, love the decor by the way. Really rocking the whole 'book of Eli' look."   
"Shut it, kid"   
"Fine"

Soon enough the entourage arrived at a corridor with a dead end. A single door stood facing them.   
As they pulled up by the door Scott put a hand on Stiles' shoulder but Stiles shrugged it off immediately. Scott looked disheartened but still told him, "when you get in there let her talk first. Be honest. We just want to know what you do. Trust me, it'll be fine"  
"Trust you" Stiles snorted in derision, "OK" he pushed his way through the men until there was only air between it and him.   
"Should I knock?" He asked a soldier next to him, the man nodded, "you guys are so damn chatty." He balled up his fist and hammered the side of it on the door liking the echo that resounded down the path they'd just taken. 

"Enter"


	13. Paging Ava Paige

A woman wearing all white and a bun tight enough to give a decent face lift was standing facing away from him, hands clasped behind her back.  
"Dramatic movie vibe" Stiles muttered as he entered and closed the door behind him.   
"Stiles" her voice was crisp and clipped  
"Yeah"  
"How do your injuries feel?"   
"Better thanks, look lady what do you want ok? Cut the crap. I know how you guys work, you seem all concerned and stuff but you always want something." He walked round the room picking up random objects and putting them back. All the while taking note of anything interesting, such as the large pile of paper and one of the pieces had his face staring back at him, it once was on his library access card at BHHS.   
"That we do" she replied softly still staring away into the distance  
"Hm?" He tore his eyes away from his school photo  
"Want something."  
"Oh. Right"  
"We want you, Stiles. We want you to help us help the world." She turned round and placed her hands on the table in front of her. Her eyes drilled into Stiles's and her mouth was a hard line of seriousness.  
"Sorry lady, no can do."  
"Why?" Now she sat down and clasped her hands together looking intently at Stiles, "please" she gestured to the seat opposite her, "explain why."  
He sighed and delayed then sat down, just to show he still had defiance in him, "I've never trusted your organisation ever since you started preaching about the Cure."  
"Why is that?"  
"Stuff like that doesn't come cheap. Only the richest would get it, everyone else would suffer. And even if you did somehow get it to every single person on this godforsaken jacked up mess of a planet there would be a cost."  
"Money is not a problem-"  
"I don't mean money."   
She frowned  
Stiles huffed a laugh, "think about it, back before the Flare, companies would use animals to experiment new drugs or products on. Now we don't have any monkeys, rabbits or whatever poor other things they used to use. Now we only have people. So to test out this...miracle cure thing you'd have to use people."  
The woman was silent opposite him regarding him carefully then, "you're right. We did use people-"  
"Kids"  
"Children yes, but it's because their brains are not yet infected with the Flare-"  
"You have no right! NO RIGHT to mess them up and scar them! Kill them even for the sake of your perverted scheme!"  
"But with your help we could never do it again!" The woman interrupted making Stiles halt with his mouth still open  
"What do you say?" His voice was low and hoarse  
"With your help we could end this whole system. You see the reason why we do what we do is to study the subjects' brains and brain patterns. We are trying to find a blueprint that will enable us to create a cure. That is why we have to subject them to harsh and extreme circumstances, so that we can find this blueprint. However, for a long time now we have been searching for the Saviour. A person who has the perfect brain, the perfect blueprint. That person is you Stiles. You can save humanity."  
Stiles stood up and the chair tumbled back. Fury was pulsing round his body as fast as his blood was racing. He didn't say anything as he stalked to the door  
"What greater honour is there than saving the world? Think about it. Please."

Stiles didn't say anything as he left, he had a small frown on his face and didn't complain as the soldiers fell in around him and marched at a very fast pace eager to get him back into his cell. His thoughts spun round his head picking up pace, he was the answer to their riddle? The last piece to their puzzle? The Spock to their Kirk? He almost smiled at the final thought but then the reality of his position hit him. Who knows what would happen to him if he did accept this, then again who knows what would happen to the world? But it could help save humanity. At the cost of his own life? Humanity? Freedom? 

He was led around a corner so fast that he suddenly blinked as his side again pounded with a burst of pain that shot up his whole body, he gasped and stopped clamping a hand down onto the injury. However, when he brought his hand back up he saw red. 

Blood coated his hand and his tshirt was starting to stick to him as more blood seeped out of the wound. He groaned and his knees started trembling. Someone's hands grabbed him and gently pushed him against a wall as voices shouted orders. He kept his eyes fastened shut again the roaring pain that was his abdomen. Both hands were pressing the wound now but the crimson liquid still crawled between his fingers and sauntered down his shaking body. He tilted his head back and pushed it hard into the wall, teeth gritted, breathing harsh and loud. 

The soldiers hurried around him, their radios buzzing as they relayed information back and forth. One, however, stayed close to him Stiles squinted at the person and slowly their face came into focus. Scott had his hands applying pressure on the wound, fear the prominent feature on his face. Stiles tried to shove him off but Scott ignored him and started leeching the pain from his body. 

Stiles gasped again and opened his eyes to the blinding light from the illuminating strips lining the hallways, it created an lens-flare effect even JJ Abrams would be proud of. Where all these Star Trek ideas were coming from was unknown to Stiles, maybe the alien and sterile atmosphere of the complex.

He let his head loll forwards again and didn't fight as a couple of soldiers picked him up and semi dragged him through the tunnels and pulled him into the corridor with the Gladers. Almost as soon as he was through the door their voices were shouting and demanding why Thomas was in such a bad way. They ignored the questions, probably as they had no idea who Thomas was, and walked him towards the infirmary. 

As Stiles passed Newt and Minhos' doors he felt his mind decide to say bye bye for the upteenth time and the last thought that crossed his mind was that he hoped the soldiers didn't drop him when he passed out.


	14. Skip codes

Newt and Minho watched Scott pace up and down the corridor, he ran his hands through his hair, fiddled with a buckle, walked a few steps, crossed his arms, put his hands on his hips, leant against the wall, stood still, paced up and down.  
"Hey shuck face, quit it will you?" Minho spat, "you're driving me crazy."  
"Sorry" Scott muttered, Newt raised an eyebrow, never had any soldier apologised for anything. 

The door down the hall slammed open and two girls hurried down, Newt recalled them being Lydia and Allison, then Derek pounced through the entrance too,  
"What happened?" He demanded stalking up the hall  
"You're slinthead buddy here managed to get Tommy hurt-" Minho snapped  
Derek cut him off, "shut up." He then turned to Scott, "what happened?"  
"He's right. I pissed him off, after seeing the Director we made him practically run back to here. It ripped his stitches and now he's back in surgery."   
Lydia was standing closest to Scott and her face was repressing a violent emotion, "why was he pissed?" She asked, that same coiled fury compressed under her words.  
However, Scott didn't seem to pick it up, "I went to get him from his cell and we talked, he said he'd found a new Pack and I got angry at him-"  
The crack silenced all the Gladers. Scott yelped like a kicked dog and brought his hand up to the stinging red mark on his cheek. Minho widened his eyes in amazement.   
"Does that really surprise you Scott?" She demanded  
"You just hit me!" He exclaimed, dumbfounded  
"Oh well done Scott." She narrowed her eyes at him, "does it really surprise you that he changed sides? That he found a new Pack? He's been alone in the Scorch for ages, then poof! suddenly we turn up, shoot him and then ask him to kindly join us." Tears were sliding down her cheeks now, both out of frustration at herself and rage of her inability to help, "we are pushing him further away and soon..we won't be able to bring him back." Allison put her hand on her best friends shoulder, her eyes had the slightly bloodshot look of oncoming tears  
"What can we do?" Derek asked, his voice softer  
"We need to leave." Lydia replied, no room for argument.   
"What?" The other three yelped,  
"Um, yo, sorry to interrupt your little...meeting" Newt piped up and the Pack turned to look at him, "but have you really though that through? Without this little sanctuary you'll be in the Scorch, you'll be surrounded by Cranks, you won't have your fancy guns."  
"Also you'll have to actually..y'know...escape" Minho added shrugging

Lydia stilled, clearly contemplating something.  
"You're right, we wouldn't survive. We don't have the skills needed." She locked gaze with Minho, "you do."  
"You what?"   
"You survived out in the Scorch... I have an idea!"  
"What is it?" Allison asked, hope igniting in her dark eyes  
"I won't tell you here, too many ears to catch us." The group started to leave the hall,  
"HEY!" Minho roared, "you can't do that!" He slammed his palm on the metal door  
"SHUT IT!" Derek hollered, rounding back on them, he stalked up to his door, "stay here and wait for us to get you." He talked in a low hurried voice but still wore the same furious expression and often pointed a finger at him, his performance was very convincing. He stepped back, "remember that."  
He's not the only one with superb acting skills, Minho thought as he scowled back and came up very close to the glass, "don't worry, beardy boy. I won't"   
Derek nodded then strode away to rejoin his friends.   
"What did he say?" Newt asked  
"To wait for them, they'll come for us" 

Only a few hours later Thomas was brought out of the OR. He was still semi sedated so two soldiers supported him to his cell then dropped him in it and left,  
"Tommy? You ok man?"  
" 'M fine" he mumbled, the world around him was still moving murkily, swimming in nauseating circles.   
"Your insides back where they belong?" Minho asked  
Even without see him, Stiles could tell he was smirking, "bloody hope so" imitating Newt  
His friend whacked the concrete wall next to him, "slim it"  
Stiles chuckled. 

Their food was brought in at normal time, without a clock or watch it was the only thing that kept him grounded on time. The small rectangular hatch opened and the tray slid through. On the tray was a plastic plate with chicken, vegetables and a couple of wrinkled potatoes, a cup of water and a slice of bread.  
"Doesn't this look appetising" he muttered to himself, but still sat down and began to eat it. He went for the chicken first, as usual the plastic utensils were useless and he had to resort to his fingers, but when he tore it apart something fell out. A note. He frowned and picked it up while chewing on a mouthful of dryish chicken. 

In routine Medical you must not talk.   
Get yourself ready soon for a run.

It was crude but the message was clear. Back before the Scorch, Stiles and Scott used to watch Sherlock and in one episode a skip code was used. Naturally, they both soon learned how to utilise this to their advantage. They would send notes in class that made no sense to any outsiders as the real message was hidden within the code. 

Stiles read the letter once more and picked out the true message: in medical must talk, get ready for run.


End file.
